


Color

by MusicalCatharsis



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-08 07:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 69,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalCatharsis/pseuds/MusicalCatharsis
Summary: There's something haunting to be said about love. It comes barreling into your life, crashes into you, and leaves you breathless when it goes.Penelope/Luke slow burn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on FF.net. Thank you all for reading!

There's something to be said about love. Something haunting. Something devastating. Something heart breaking. You find yourself questioning every move you make, every move he makes. You find yourself questioning everything. Before him, you never questioned your decisions. Before him, you wouldn't cry over missed phone calls. Before him, everything was perfect. But before him…everything was gray.

Gray like your favorite sweat-shirt. Gray like your favorite sheets. Gray like your towels in the bathroom. Gray like the paint that covers the walls in your living room. But once you met him, you could see color again. Colors you never thought could be seen by the human eye. But he hurts you. He hurts you in ways that you didn't even think were possible. Not physically of course, but emotionally.

He yanks the ground right out from under you, day in and day out. He makes your world shift on it's axis, some times in a good way. But mostly, it's in the worst way.

It's in the way he calls you Baby Girl. Knowing that to him you're neither his Baby nor his Girl. It's in the way he calls you Beautiful, but when you look in the mirror all you see is fat, and you are ashamed. It's in the way he hugs you, kisses your forehead, and tells you he loves you. And you know he does, on that platonic, best friend, godmother to his son with this tall, lanky, beautiful woman, way. Yes, he loves you. But he's not in love with you, and therein lies the difference. Because you are irrevocably, unequivocally, desperately, hopelessly in love with him.

Your heart hardens, and you find someone else to lie with at night. Someone else who cuddles you close, kisses you deeply, and even though your heart isn't in it, makes love to you in your bed. Someone who doesn't understand why you won't let him call you Baby until he meets the man who can. And then it's clear to the place keeper that you're in love with a man, but the man you love obviously isn't him. You know it. He knows it. You all know it.

But you pretend that you don't.

And life carries on.

Until he leaves, and your world is gray again.

______________________

And then one day it happens. You're walking into work with a tablet in one hand, a pink pen sticking out of a messy bun, and a cup of coffee almost to your lips when you see a flash of color. Your heart stops, because you haven't seen color in months and you think it's him. But it's not, and your heart shatters and your world collapses, and it's hard for you to catch your breath. But what you can't understand is that this man standing and talking with your boss is wearing blue, and his eyes are brown, that melted honey shade that people fall in love with. He doesn't turn to look at you, but judging from the side of his face you can tell that he is handsome.

But your heart is scattered at your feet in a million pieces, and you've just managed to grab a dust pan to start to sweep them all up, and you know you can't afford to fall in love again…not with someone so clearly out of your league. But there you go again. Ready to pick up the pieces of your heart, assemble the remains into something functioning and mask the holes with scotch tape, which we all know is flimsy at best. Good for holding together the wrapping paper you used to send off his wedding gift, but not good enough for your heart, but it will have to do for now.

You're ready to prance over to this stranger and hand him your fragile organ, because that's what you do for color. You then realize that you would do anything for color. You, my dear, are a color addict and it's time to come to terms with that. But how do you come to terms with the fact that he left? That he used you for the color you brought into his world, and when his life was colorful enough, packed up his bags, his wife, his kid, and he left.

That's not how you really see it, because deep down you know, that he left because it was time. He has a child to worry about now, your godson. And even though you know that, even though you can clearly see that's what happened, it doesn't hurt any less. You don't think it will hurt any less, ever, but maybe…

This knowledge doesn't help you sleep better at night, it doesn't help put your heart back together, and it sure as hell doesn't bring the color back into your world. So you file it away, deep in the recesses of your mind. You'll look at it another time, or not. That's entirely up to you.

This stranger is tall, and broad shouldered, and looks like he has also seen some things in his life. His shirt stretches across his back, and you wonder deep down, what he would look like kicking a door in. Any door? Your door…probably. Considering you've already gotten ahead of yourself. He's deep in conversation with your boss, probably about the latest serial killer he helped capture, and deep down you are thankful for his presence. But you're not thankful for why he was there, or whose place he was taking. Or not taking, you're really trying hard not to eavesdrop, but it's part of who you are. So go on, listen.

_________________

The weeks go by and you finally get the name of the man who has caught your attention, and for a fleeting minute, you feel as if you've caught his attention too. But that's preposterous, because you look at yourself after a shower and you cringe at what you see. There is no way that SSA Luke Alvez can find any part of your body attractive. The way your stomach has those four rolls in it, and it's offensive that even they can't be symmetrical. You stare at yourself as you towel off, counting for another morning, the many stretch marks that litter your skin. You look at the cellulite on your thighs…you know that you are beautiful but you can't help but feel inadequate compared to the others around you.

You start to dress carefully again, outfits designed to draw a man's eye to your best features, because besides your brain the best thing you think you have to offer is what is between your legs. But you're more than that deep down inside. You start to smile more, especially when he's around, and don't think that the others haven't noticed because they have. They think it's nice, that you're finally coming back to yourself. Yes, it's only been about a month but the old Penelope Garcia is starting to shine through again, and Hotch will do anything to keep Luke around. He wants to save you. They all do.

A new haircut always used to make you feel better about yourself, and so you go and get your hair layered, and while you were there you added some pink to the very tips of your hair. You stare at the hair piled on the top of your head before fashioning it into something reasonable and finally exit the bathroom. There's only so long in a day that you can stare at yourself and hate everything that you see.

At least when Derek was here he used to tell you that you were beautiful.

You used to lie awake at night and recount the nice things he would say to you. At some point in your life, you may have actually started to believe him, but then he left, taking all of that positivity with him.

Derek isn't coming back, you scold yourself. He left without a second glance, he's gone.

It doesn't hurt as much to say that anymore. You're finally healing.

Yes, it's a lie you continue to tell yourself in order to get through the day. Just the mention of his name causes the pain to bubble up in your throat and you have to excuse yourself before it overflows. But you're strong. You can get through this. After all, it's only been 62 days since he left.

________________________

Your fragilely reconstructed world crumbles around you one day, as Alvez talks to you about Roxy. Someone who loves him dearly, and you quip with him, that she should call you once she comes to her senses. But deep inside you can't breathe again, this can't be happening for the second time. And you know, you just know that Roxy is tall, slender, beautiful, and intelligent. Of course she is. How could you have been so stupid, you reprimand yourself. And you hear your voice, in the hazy mess that is this entire conversation, snap that you have plans with your boyfriend, your Canadian clarinet playing boyfriend, and you know that he doesn't exist. Well not anymore.

He left you around the same time that Derek did. But that doesn't hurt you at all. Or you don't remember it hurting you at all because at that point you were already dead inside from saying goodbye to Derek. You don't like to go back to the Dark Days as you are so fond of calling them, and so you close your eyes in this elevator and concentrate on breathing. That's all you can control right now, is breathing.

When you finally get home and kick off your heels you decide that enough is enough, and you crawl into the back of your closet for the offending pair of shoes that you are looking for.

Sneakers. You stare at them as if they have insulted your parents before you change clothes. Do you even own socks? Before you know it you have driven yourself to a beautiful trail near Quantico and you stretch lightly before taking off. You don't know what the hell caused you to think that jogging was a great idea for your first go around, but you were sick and tired of looking like a damn muffin every time you sat down. And so when the pain in your calves slowly becomes unbearable, and your lungs seem like you can't get any more air, you continue pushing yourself. Sipping from your water bottle as you go. The end of the trail is fast approaching, and you can see Esther up ahead, and you know you can make it if you just push yourself.

In what seems like no time you have reached your car again, and there is this bubbling in your chest, one that has nothing to do with the exertion you just put on your body. It takes you a while to figure out what the feeling is, as you sit on the ground with your back against your tire, with your knees bent, and you concentrate on breathing. There is sweat falling into your face, and your heart rate is literally through the roof because you can feel the organ pounding against your chest. You feel alive. You feel proud.

You don't notice when another car pulls up on the other side of Esther, and you don't hear that person calling your name, asking if you are ok. What you do register is legs that are so finely sculpted and peppered with hair that it makes your blood run cold. And a dog, you notice a dog too, because the animal comes up to you and immediately licks your face.

"Roxy." He reprimands. Reaching down to grab her gently by the collar. Your eyes snap up to meet his, and the brunette smiles at you in that crooked way that he has perfected. "Garcia, meet Roxy…my girl."

You smile up at him and reach out to pet Roxy. Laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of it all.

"I didn't know you ran." He said, crouching down to be eye level with you.

"First time." You reply. Looking away from Roxy. "Nearly died back there, but it felt good to finish."

He smiles at you, and stands, offering you his hand to help you up.

"I run here every day when we're not on assignment…" he says "maybe you want to join me?" He's looking down at his feet, finding something interesting in the gravel there. Did you really imagine those feelings a while back? You question over and over again. You're brushing yourself off when you pause, realizing what he asked you.

"I'm no good." You start but he cuts you off quickly.

"We can go slow, at your pace." He looks hopeful, and so does Roxy who's begun to whine impatiently. "We can even start tomorrow, or right now if you want to walk the trail this time." You smile at him.

"Sure Newbie, I'd like that." And you take off towards the tree line for the second time that day. Wondering if there was something wrong with you.

But in that moment, the setting sun catches your hair as you run in circles letting Roxy chase you. And you don't know it yet, Penelope Garcia, but you've brought the color into someone else's world.

A/N: Hi everyone and thank you for reading. This past season, I thought it was going to be hard for me to get over losing Derek and don't get me wrong it wasn't easy. But I really feel as if Luke is everything Penelope needs at this time, even if he isn't something that she wants.

This will be a slow burn, friendship and then more type of deal. I may include cases, I may not. I don't know yet. I just know that this was itching to be written, so please let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Two months. You and Luke had been running together for two months now. Each day your stride gets better, you finish quicker, you can run longer times and distances. You change in two months. Not only does he show up in color, but so do your co-workers. You realize again that flowers are different colors, and that trees actually have foliage, colorful foliage, for some of the year.

Your heart is healing in the 4 months since Derek left you cold and battered, and you start to wonder what it was about him that made you love him in the first place. Is it the way that he used your body when he was lonely? The way that he would crawl into your bed and fill you up so completely to then roll over and fall asleep. You start to wonder if there was ever a time that you actually knew what love was.

You and Luke discuss it in hypotheticals one day as you're walking the trail for a change of pace. You ask him what he would do if he were in a situation like that. He replies that he hopes to never be in a situation where he is treating a woman's body like a hotel room. Women deserve to be cherished and loved, each and every one of them he says. He smiles at you and helps you climb over the heavy chain that divides the parking lot with the end of the trail. And for a moment too long he lets your hand settle in his, and rubs his thumb across the back of your hand. You just imagined it, you say to yourself condescendingly.

The following day during lunch, while you're gathering information on a new case, he comes to your office with a salad and a seltzer water for you. Several weeks after you started running, you decided to make eating changes too, and you find that not only is your vegetarianism a moral choice, it's a healthy choice too. And you enjoy it more. He hands you the food and you smile, thanking him with a nod as you continue to pound on the keys in order to compile the information that you need. You're so close to being done that you can feel it, and you just want to enjoy the few moments you have left with the male friend in your life that doesn't want to use you for what is between your legs when he is too lazy to swipe right on Tinder.

You've also come to respect yourself more in these months.

You realize that you're worth more than a quick roll in the sheets.

You realize that you deserve to be worshiped. Not by Luke, because obviously, he's not interested, but maybe someone else.

And you tell him as much, and when his face goes dark for a moment, you misread the situation and unceremoniously toss him out of your office. Because you thought he was different, but maybe all men are the same.

Deep down you doubt that. Deep down you know that he is nothing like the guy who used to sit in your office with you before. Luke is not Derek and you find yourself locking your computer in order to go find him and apologize.

_____________

When you finally track him down, he has his go bag in his hand, and he's heading back into the bullpen. You run after him, remembering that months ago, even this much exertion on your part would have left you breathless, and you revel in the fact that you just ran in stilettos.

"Luke!" You call out to him and he stops, frozen in time. He turns to face you and you can see the flash of hurt that has etched itself into his eyes.

"I'm sorry." You begin and he softens, holding out his hand to you, in order for you to stop. You reach out and gently take his hand in yours, shaking your head as you do so. "No, you have to let me apologize. I'm sorry, you're nothing like Derek., and I know this. Sometimes I forget just how bad it was with him, and when I do…" you trail off because you have still yet to tell him everything that transpired between you and Derek. And you're not sure if you ever will. You look into his warm eyes and smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze, feeling the calluses on his palms.

"Promise me that you'll be safe out there." You whisper to him.

"Siempre, mi hermosa flor." He says, before turning and walking into the bullpen.

"You know I can't understand you!" You call after him.

"Si, eso es lo que lo hace divertido." You chuckle to yourself as you continue to watch him walk away before you follow after him. You realize that he's going to do this for as long as he's in your life, and you make a note to figure out how to speak Spanish sooner or later. He turns around and walks back to you, and you're confused for a second before he wraps you into his arms.

"I forgive you, Flower, and I will always be safe. After all, I have you and Roxy to come home to." He says before he walks away again, this time with a quickened pace.

The colors are still there when the team is in the air, and you're waiting for them to flicker out like a dying light bulb, but they never do. He calls you each night before he goes to sleep, asking how Roxy is because of course, she ends up at your place whenever the team gets a case. It's better than the kennel he was taking her to. You're doing it for Roxy, you tell yourself. Not for him, and a small part of you actually believes that lie you tell yourself. You and Roxy go for long walks around the office while the team is away, making sure to keep up with the exercise, and you find yourself wanting to utilize Luke's backyard for more than Roxy's bathroom.

He texts you each morning, letting you know how far along in the case they are, and it's a vast difference from when the team used to be on a case before. And by before, you realize with Derek. And then you realize that it doesn't hurt as much to think about him anymore and file that information away for later in the week. Luke keeps in contact, almost as if he wants to talk to you. And you realize that you want to talk to him too. He calls to hear your voice, you realize because you're his tether to home and some how you've become his other girl. It doesn't fill you with a sense of dread the way it might have in the past. And you feel that you're in a pretty healthy place emotionally if you can consider yourself his girl, without wondering if he loved you too.

Because you know that he does, and you know that it's a love without strings attached. He's not going to come over in the middle of a storm after a hard case and kiss you soundly in your doorway. He's not going to growl and pick you up, slamming the door behind him as he expertly carries you to your bedroom. And you find that even though you want that to happen in some context, it's nice for there to be no expectation to always remain available in case he needs a release.

___________________

You greet the team with hugs when they finally return, and you make sure that Roxy is with you when the plane touches down. You smile up at him when he comes rushing off of the elevator, kneeling to greet his girl, before standing to wrap his arms around you in a hug. You realize then that friendship can come without strings from the opposite sex, and you feel lighter somehow.

"You up for a run tonight?" He asks after he steps back from the hug. You smile and nod. "Great! I've missed it." What you hear is: I missed you. So you respond in kind.

"I've missed you too, Luke." Whistling you turn to walk into the bullpen with the rest of the team.

You all discuss the case for what seems like hours before JJ offers to get a drink.

"I'd love to." You say and you can see the smile that falters on his face. "But Luke and I are running tonight." You don't notice the way the team looks at you. Reid tilts his head to the side.

"Did you say running, Kitten?" Rossi asks slowly, making sure he heard you correctly.

"Yep." You reply, excessively popping the P at the end of the word.

"Since when did you take up running?" Emily asks, settling herself on the edge of JJ's desk.

"About two months ago." You reply. Turning to get confirmation from Luke. His nod spurs you on to discuss the inner turmoil you've been experiencing. And so you sit in the nearest chair and take a deep breath.

"I was depressed." You begin… "You know, after Derek left, so abruptly. And I missed him like crazy, and I felt as if I was going crazy. So one day I put on some sneakers and went for a run, and Luke found me sitting on the ground near my car and offered to run with me daily." You shrug your shoulders, making it seem so nonchalant. Because you're just friends. He calls you Flower, but you suspect it's because you're constantly wearing them. He doesn't make you feel inferior to other people in his life.

"Oh Garcia, why didn't you tell anyone?" JJ asks, reaching out to wrap her arms around you.

"Once I started running, I felt better." You don't have the heart to tell them that you're running from the memories of Derek. Of how badly he hurt you. Of how badly you let him hurt you. Because deep down Derek is a good guy, and if you weren't willing, he wouldn't have done have the things he did. …Right?

It's three weeks later when you're out running and you push past the three-mile mark, and inch closer to the 4. Roxy was at your heels and Luke was trailing just a bit behind. You're angry today. Your face is set in a scowl, and no matter how much Luke tries to pry the information out of you, you're not budging. You're usually so careful with your footing, but with the storm that's brewing in your brain at the moment, you don't see the rock that's jutting out of the ground, and of course, you trip over it. Tumbling over yourself, and the last time you heard a panicked "Penelope!" Was when Derek was still around. And the pain that is radiating from your ankle is nothing like the pain that is emitting from your heart at this moment.

"Fuck." You scream, letting your hand fall to the ground, and you cover your eyes with your other arm. Luke is at your side in a matter of minutes, and you try so very hard to hide the fact that you are openly sobbing, but Luke isn't stupid and he knows you well enough by now. He pulls you into a sitting position and softly takes your ankle in his hand. He's looking over the body part and running his hand over your skin, and nothing will stop the onslaught of tears that are pouring out of your eyes at that moment. He's silent, sitting on the ground with your ankle elevated in his lap. He's waiting for you to start the conversation you realize, as Roxy comes over and lays her head on your stomach. She's probably grateful for the break. You take a few more moments to cry before you wipe your face with the hem of your shift, exposing too much of yourself to him, but you can't be bothered to even care right now. You chuckle now, laughing into the wooded area, and glare at the stone that sent you toppling to the ground.

"How bad is it?" You finally manage to ask, hoping that you're not in shock from the pain of your ankle snapping in half. Because that would be the icing on the proverbial cake today.

"Sprained, I think. But I do want to get you to the hospital to get it checked out." He says. His hands are keeping your leg still, and you can feel the trail of fire his palms have left on your body. But that type of thinking is why you're currently lying on the ground in the middle of the forest, and so you stop that train of thought right in its tracks. In 11 years, do you really want to be lying on the floor crying out of anger at the fact that you realized you were always just the side piece to his life too?

"What's the matter Flower?" He asks, breaking your train of thought.

"My life, it's a fucking joke." You grind out. Hissing at yourself out of habit at the language that you are using. You only speak so foully in two instances. The throes of passion, or when you're utterly pissed off.

"It's not a joke." He counters.

"No, honestly it is." You reply, lifting yourself up onto your elbows in the dirt. "Hank was baptized over the weekend." You continue. "You know Hank, Derek's son. My godson." His body stiffens at the mention of Derek, and you could have taken this as your sign to stop talking but you don't. And suddenly it's all coming out now, the late night house calls, where you would allow your body to be used. The pet names, the way you actually felt about him. How strung along you felt, how strung along you still feel. How running is now the only thing you can control because you still feel as if he controls everything else you do. He is so engrained in you that it hurts, and no matter how often you try to extract him, he comes back, digging deeper into your bones with a "Hey Baby Girl…" text message and you scream out into the forest when you're done. Roxy opens her eyes to look at you but doesn't get alarmed, because you're just as much Roxy's girl as you are Luke's.

"I didn't know." Is all Luke says as he gently places your leg back on the ground.

"I didn't want you to know." You reply. "It's why I was so cold. Why I'm still so guarded."

"I can understand that." He counters, standing up and dusting himself off. "Do you want to try putting pressure on it?"

"What, Luke, no quirky remark about my pain?" You say, trying to get him to rise to your challenge. He shakes his head at you.

"No." He says, helping you to stand, and when you realize that you can't put any pressure on the ankle, he bends down to lift you up behind the knee.

"Stop." You shout, flinching from his advances. "I'm too heavy." He stares at you, eyes wide, and anger written in his irises. He bends down again, batting your hands out of the way, and picks you up with ease. Cradling your body close to his and whistling for Roxy to follow.

"I'm not going to say anything because I don't have anything nice to say." He replies, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. He continues… "You're beautiful Penelope Garcia, and I'm really sorry for all of the other men who didn't see it. But I do. And if I need to tell you that you are beautiful every day until you believe it, then I will. You're not disposable. You're not meant to be used and thrown away. You're not replaceable. You are one of a kind." He stops looking down at you as he comes around the corner and can see his Jeep up ahead. He places you gently in the front seat, making sure to buckle you in, before closing the door. You can hear his voice faintly as he walks around the car, and you think you hear him say "And if I ever meet Derek Morgan, I just may kill him." But you're in pain, so you don't push the issue because you're obviously hearing things.


	3. Chapter 3

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

You chant this to yourself as you run alone for the tenth day in a row. You're worried about the team. You're always worried about the team. The skies are gray today, but they have been for the past week, constant rain has fallen and it's dampened your spirits just a bit. Your ankle still twitches a bit when the weather darkens, and it wasn't just a sprain but a slight fracture. You didn't run for a month and walked only for a month after that. But today, two and a half months later you decided to get back out there. And you're ankle is screaming at you to stop, but the loss of air in your lungs feels liberating.

You haven't seen him in ten days. Them, you correct yourself. You haven't seen them in ten days. You refuse to make the same mistakes with Luke as you did with Derek. He's part of them, and he's part of your friendship and a part of your life.

Keep running, you scream inside your mind. Keep running.

Away from the hurt. Away from the feelings. Away…

You remember the last time the team was gone for this long. When they finally came back it was three in the morning, and you woke to persistent banging on your door, and you could hear how intoxicated he was. Watch out for that rock, you keep running. But you opened the door anyway, you allowed him inside your home. The hour crept closer to four, and then five, and by the time the sun rose in the morning, he was with you in your bed. He didn't leave right after instead holding you close and kissing you on the forehead. Tree stump. It's then as he's running his long fingers down your spine, that he tells you about her. How he thinks that she's the one, how beautiful she is. She's in the medical profession, but you tune out. The last thing you hear as he leaves you naked and wrapped in sweaty sheets is her name: Savannah.

You remember the pain you felt in that moment, lying there staring up at your ceiling, your legs sticky…you remember. It hurt, it tore you apart, and yet you still let him walk all over you. But now, as you're out of breath, with your legs burning, and sweat pooling between your breasts, you realize that it doesn't hurt quite like it used to. It's a dull ache now, a phantom pain from a limb long gone. You smile, a genuine smile, a cheek cramping, eye squinting, teeth baring smile. And it feels good, it feels great actually to finally feel happy again.

And then you see him.

And the color is gone.

He's leaning up against your car, and you want to be happy to see him, but you slow to a stop, taking your time to stretch and to give Roxy her water before you approach him.

"Chocolate Thunder." You look up into his brown eyes after pulling a towel out of your backseat to wipe the sweat off of your face and pour another bottle of water down your throat.

"Baby Girl!" He says, reaching to wrap you in a hug. You let him, and the feelings that used to assault you don't attack you this time. There are no tingles, no pooling of wetness between your legs, there's…nothing really. "How are you?" He asks, kissing your forehead.

"I'm good." You counter. Turning your attention to Roxy, making sure to wipe down her coat, and check that her paws are ok before letting her lay on your backseat.

"Whose dog?" He asks, and you turn to her and smile.

"She's mine." You say, reaching in to rub the top of her head. "Well she's Luke's actually but she's claimed me as her own."

"Ah, Alvez?" He says, and before you would obsess over the hint of jealousy laced in his voice. But now, now you just nod your head and smile.

"Yeah, he's been good to me." Derek smiles at you, running his hand down your left arm like he used to do.

"I hope not as good to you as I used to be." His smile hasn't reached his eyes.

"Never, Derek." You say. "Only you can treat me that way."

______________

Hi, you've reached Alvez.

Hi, you've reached

Hi, you've

Hi,

You call his phone over and over and over again. You're hyperventilating. He's here. Why is he here? You call again and again.

Hi, you've reached Alvez.

Hi, you've reached

Hi, you've

Finally, you get through to him.

"Garcia." He answers the phone. He sounds happy. "We just touched down."

"Luke." You say. Your voice cracks. You sob.

"Flower, what's the matter? Are you ok?" He sounds panicked now.

"Luke…" you repeat. Clutching your stomach, you feel as if your world has been ripped out from under you. You feel as if your stomach has been torn apart. Your heart is on the ground now, the repairs that you had managed to complete now wasted. You feel as if no time had passed at all. You're right back where you started.

"I'll be right there. Where are you?"

"Home." And you both know that you mean his.

You're sitting on his couch with Roxy at your feet. You're wearing one of his ARMY t-shirts, which four months ago would've been too tight, but now hangs loosely on you. You've showered, you're in his pants. He's through the door and by your side in seconds. You can tell by his face that he thought you were physically hurt. But when he gets to you and looks into your eyes, he can tell that you're hurting more than he could have ever imagined. And while you cry, he holds you. There are a million things that he wants to say, but he holds you and lets you deal with this in your own way.

You fall asleep with your head in his lap, your wet hair soaking his pants, but he pulls a blanket over you and strokes your hair absentmindedly. By the time you wake, you don't know how many hours had passed, but it's dark out. His lap has been replaced with a pillow from his bedroom, you only know this because you changed the sheets to something more colorful while he was away. You sit up, and look around the living room, and locate him in the kitchen. He has a towel draped over his left shoulder. He's standing at the stove, cooking, and something smells delicious. You stand and stretch, yawning, and his shirt rises up on your stomach. Before you would hide this part of yourself, but now you don't care. There's something liberating about your new body, those four rolls have dwindled down to two, and if you keep at it there won't be any left.

"How long was I out?" You ask him, voice barely above a whisper. He doesn't turn to you but continues stirring and responds.

"About four hours." You look at him.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He replies, pointing with the spoon to the cabinet where you know the plates are kept. "Want to set the table?"

"What table?" You ask, padding over to the plates and pulling some down. You grab a bowl for Roxy, setting it on the counter.

"Ha ha, very funny." You smile, brushing past him, and set up the plates on the counter.

"You want to talk?" He continues. You pause.

"Derek's here." You say. And he stiffens, shutting off the stove, and moving to plate up the food. "He was waiting for me when I came back from my run with Roxy."

"Anything I can do to help?" He asks, reaching over to touch your hand, but thinks better before pushing your fork closer to you.

"You're already doing it." You respond. "Thank you."

The rest of dinner is silent, and sometimes silent is good. It's not tense with Luke, it's comfortable, easy, and the key to his house that you have does not feel heavy on the ring you carry it around on. He gave it to you one day with a pink flower key chain. Shrugged his shoulders and said, "to make it easier to see Roxy." Like it was normal to exchange keys with co-workers, and he didn't make a big deal out of it when you gave him his own key to your place. Crossing a line that you didn't cross with Derek. You sit and wonder how in the last six months you entwined your life with the man sitting across from you. As you chew on the pasta he made, sans meat, you start to think that maybe, in the future, you'd love to have something like this.

Something without strings. Something beautiful. Something clean.

He calls you that night, twice in a row. You don't answer, and you stare at the words that he texts you, directly after the second voicemail.

Baby Girl, I'm at your door. Where are you?

The TV is on, and Luke has fallen asleep leaning against the side of the couch. Roxy is lying between the both of you. You think this is nice, that this is something that you could get used to. Burrowing deeper into the couch, you scratch under Roxy's ears and pull the blanket closer around your shoulders.

Not home, sorry.

Turning your phone off, you finally close your eyes and fall asleep.

_______________

You don't expect him to be sitting in your office the next morning, as you waltz into the building with Luke's arm draped around your shoulders, in the same fashion that his arm used to. You don't expect the anger in his eyes when he looks at another man's hands on you. You don't expect the hardened glare and defensive posture from either of the men, but it's exactly what you get. Luke lets you enter the room first, like usual, and then follows you in to put your laptop bag and purse down for you. It became a habit when you were on crutches, and even though you've told him every day since then that you can carry your own bags, he doesn't listen. He's openly staring at Derek now, arms crossed over his chest, and you can sense the awkward tension rising.

"Morning, Derek." You say.

"Baby Girl, no Chocolate Thunder today?" He asks and you smile at him sadly. Luke clears his throat and you turn to look at him.

"You good here, Garcia?" He asks, reaching out to grab your arm. You nod at the same time Derek approaches him.

"Why wouldn't she be good?" He asks. Luke looks at the man, before turning his attention back to you. This move was clearly done to agitate Derek, but you let it go.

"I'm good, Luke. I'll see you in a few to go over the case." He smiles warmly at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek, almost the corner of your mouth, and your heart starts racing. Not this again. Where did these feelings come from? They're temporary you tell yourself, They have to be temporary, you can't go through this again. It's been six months and still, just the sight of Derek could send you into a meltdown. You watch Luke leave, noticing an emptiness that he leaves in his wake. It's odd, has that happened before? You're unsure, but maybe it has. Maybe it hasn't.

"Were you with him last night?" Derek asks once Luke is gone, and you sigh at the disgust you hear in his voice. Even though you're fully rested you suddenly feel so very tired. You walk around Derek and start to pull your laptop out to charge it, before moving to boot up your computer.

"Yes," you answer though you're not entirely sure why you did. You offer no other excuses.

"But I wanted to see you." He says, sitting on the edge of your desk, much like he used to.

"I know." He stares at you, reaching out to try and touch you, but you wheel yourself away, to start looking through your e-mails.

"Didn't you want to spend time with me?" He asks, chuckling. You wonder if this is hurting him, but you know that it isn't. The only person it would hurt would be you, and his wife.

"Not like that Derek." You whisper, not turning around. "Not anymore." He laughs louder this time, something that used to fill you with happiness now fills you with dread.

"Baby Girl, you know I love you." He says, coming up behind you and wrapping you in a hug. You shake your head, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"No." You say standing up quickly and walking to your office door. You shut it gently and turn back to look at him, Derek, Chocolate Thunder, the man you love…loved.

"No, I don't know that you love me. Because you never showed me, Derek. You think love is you coming to my house in the morning and sleeping with me? You think love is when after you use me, you tell me about the woman you're going to marry. You think that this has been easy for me?" You pause to take a breath. "These have been the hardest six months of my life, trying to get over you, Derek. I loved you like actually loved you. I wanted to have kids with you, marry you. I wanted everything with YOU. But you always wanted her. And it doesn't matter who her is referring to because it was always a different her. It was never ME that you wanted, Derek. I was never your first choice, or your second, or third. I was last. Luke puts me first, and our friendship is just that, friendship. Nothing more. Nothing less. He doesn't try to sleep with me, he doesn't pressure me into anything. He just lets me be." The tears are flowing freely now, but you stand tall, proud near the door. You have to get this out finally, it's been 11 years and six months, and this just needs to be said.

"I love you Derek, and I will always love you. But I won't let you use me anymore, I won't help you cheat on your wife. If you only came here to get into my pants, then consider this a failed mission because I won't allow it. Yes, I was with Luke last night. He cooked dinner, we watched TV, we took Roxy for a walk. He didn't leave me alone because he knew how seeing your face would screw me up inside. If it upsets you that another man can find my company interesting, then I apologize, but I couldn't sit around and wait for you. How could I wait for the fairy tale ending that I knew wasn't coming?

"You were my color Derek, I thought I had found everything with you. The whole package. And then you left. You left me, no words, no advice, no excuses. You left me to figure out how to live without you. I was a complete mess. You shattered me. I'm not the same Baby Girl you left behind Derek, I'm different now. Or haven't you noticed?

"I found a way to move on after you broke my heart. And if you love me at all, like you claim that you do, you will walk out of this door and come back as my friend Derek. The one before that first night together. The one who was nice to me because he wanted to be, not because he wanted to be in me. And if you can't be my friend, then I don't know what to tell you."

You hold the door open for him, tears streaming down your face, and watch as he walks quickly past you. He says it so quietly that you almost miss it.

"I'm sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

You're in the same spot that he left you in six months ago, and you're watching him walk away again. And even though you've healed, watching him walk away without a single glance back, rips you in half. You thought you meant more to him than that, but it's obvious that you didn't. And even after all this time…the harsh realization that you mean nothing to him hits you like a ton of bricks. You let out a scream as your knees give way under you. Before you know it his black boots are in your cloudy field of vision, and you are being held into a chest that you have become so familiar with. You clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer to you. He's smoothing back your hair and kissing you on the top of your head.

You think that you can hear him telling you that it's ok, that he's here, that it will get better again. And you think to yourself that this is the second time in as many days that he's held you while you cried over another man. You don't hear him close the door with his foot as he sinks to you on the ground, you don't hear the knocking on the other side of the door or JJ's voice as she's asking you what is wrong. You only focus on your breathing…and his voice. He uses his sleeve to wipe away your mascara, and your foundation comes off too. You're sure that you look a mess, but it doesn't seem to phase him as he tilts your head up to make eye contact with you.

"Garcia," he begins " breathe with me." And as you concentrate on breathing while staring into his warm brown eyes, you see the color flickering back into focus.

Breathe in. Hold. One. Two. Three. Breathe out through your mouth.

Good.

You repeat the steps.

"Are you going to be okay here if I let JJ in?" He asks, and you find yourself nodding. You're busy wiping at your face and fixing your hair. And before you know it he's gone and replaced by the soft lines of your other co-worker. You don't have to strain yourself in order to hear that Luke has taken off after Derek, and for a second you think about racing out to stop whatever altercation is about to happen.

"What did you do to her?" You hear him shout after Derek, who has probably made it to the elevator by now.

"Nothing that she didn't want at the time." Came Derek's reply and the lack of remorse in his voice washes over you. You let it seep into your pores and penetrate your bones. _He isn't sorry._ You tell yourself, repeating it over and over again until you force yourself to believe it.

You don't think that they will escalate to physical violence, but they are both headstrong, and in their own ways they both love you. Or so you thought. You hear something, _someone,_ slam into a wall and a low growl of a voice tells you that Luke is the one speaking.

"If you hurt her again you will regret it. Understood?" You stare openly at JJ. The confusion on her face is blatant, and you wish that there was an easy explanation for the scenario that is playing out before you all.

"You'll never replace me, no matter how hard you try, Amigo." You close your eyes, praying to whoever will listen, that Luke does not snap. Not because you want to save Derek, _he's not sorry,_ but because Luke is on duty. He still has his credentials and Derek is considered a civilian now. You stand, throwing JJ a look that says I'll explain later, and run into the hallway. You see them, with Luke pinning Derek to the wall by the elevator with his fist raised.

"Luke," you whisper, and you know he can hear you because he relaxes. "Don't." He releases his hold on Derek, looking him dead in the eye before turning his head to look back at you.

"You're not worth it." You hear Luke tell Derek. "But she is." And he walks back towards you, tossing his arm over your shoulder and walking you back to your office to start the day.

You don't turn around.

Color doesn't manifest itself there anymore.

* * *

Hours.

Days.

Weeks.

They pass.

Slowly, but they still pass. You put your life back together, or you try to at least. This time you have a needle and thread and you try and sew the frayed edges back together in neat lines, careful to not leave any scars. There are some pieces where the blood needs to be staunched before you can continue stitching, but you trudge through. You explain briefly to the team what happened almost three weeks ago, but honestly, you find that it's none of their business. They look at you with pity in their eyes, but you ignore it. Silly girl, they must be thinking, to allow someone to use you that way. But they don't understand, they will never understand.

You slowly find that your old clothes don't fit anymore, not a single damn item. And so you drag yourself to the mall, because if you wear one more loose fitting dress you just may lose your mind. You don't remember the last time you did something mind numbingly boring, but you revel in the fact that you can shut down for a small while. You pick out clothes for hours, things that you would never have dared to wear when you were bigger. Is that a crop top? It's white, and you pair it with a white skirt and bright pink blazer. The small expanse of skin that the outfit shows is alluring to you, and so you run your finger over the milky flesh in the dressing room. All while staring at your reflection, wondering who this woman was standing looking back at you. While you've seen the changes that your body has been going through, you've never really seen it now have you?

There's always been that small piece of denial when your weight is concerned, you've always felt inferior to the others. Not as in shape, never as in shape. Round, that's a shape though. You smile at yourself, realizing that you've lost 30 pounds, just from running and dieting in six months. That's five pounds a month, and while it doesn't seem like much, the sweat you produced losing all that weight tells another story.

Your phone rings while you're in the outfit, and it's Luke telling you to get to Quantico as soon as possible. Something has happened and Spencer has been arrested… And so you throw your shoes back on and quickly make the purchase of the outfit that you're wearing. You forget how easy it is for you to run now, but still, the fluid motions of your legs moving in the heels and the bandage skirt should surprise you. They surprised the other patrons of the mall. When you arrive at work, you forgo the elevator, instead, you hike up your skirt and taking the stairs. You pause in the hallway to right yourself, tugging on your blazer and fixing the hem of your skirt as you walk into the bullpen.

You notice his eyes immediately, staring at you, taking you in. You shrug your shoulders and smile at him, before racing into your office for your laptop and your tablet. He hands you a cup of coffee as you walk back through the bullpen, and neither of you exchange words as you climb the stairs in front of him. But you can feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of your head. He's curious about what you're wearing, you're sure of it. But Penelope Garcia, he's just amazed that nobody has ever taken the time to actually see the true beauty that you are.

"Garcia, you're here." Prentiss starts. "Luke, Rossi, and I are going to fly down to Mexico and see if we can't get anywhere with getting Reid's charges dropped. Lewis, I want you to go to Reid's home with Walker and search for anything there. JJ stay with Garcia and be prepared." She says, gathering her go bag and walking out the door. "Wheels up in 20."

Luke stops to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head and pats JJ on the shoulder. The kiss sends tingles through your spine and a desire pools in your belly. But you bat those feelings away, telling yourself that you won't ever let it happen again. There are no feelings there. Not on his end anyway. And once he's gone you relax, because you can finally think straight again.

You're focused now, sitting in the conference room, frantically refreshing the Mexico Police Database, the one you hacked. Your heart is racing and there's a cup to the left of you, still full of coffee, now cold where it once was warm. You're searching for what prison they're sending Spencer to, and you still can't wrap your mind around the fact that Spencer has been arrested. Spencer was in Mexico. Spencer…

You trail off because you find the prison detail they have assigned him to. _It's not good._

Your blood runs cold, and you try to find anything about the victim, you search and dig, and you haven't moved from this seat in over four hours. There's a nagging voice in the back of your mind that's telling you to move, so you switch to the tablet and walk to the bathroom. It's on your walk back that you discover that the victim was also an American citizen. So you run, faster than you've ever run before, and you tell JJ who calls Prentiss who tells Luke to go get your boy. He's coming home.

And when he shows up, he looks beaten down, and gaunt, and when you hug him this time it's you commenting on how thin he's gotten. But you hug him anyway, squeezing him and letting tears roll down your face. Because at least you know that he's safe. He's ok for now.

You steel yourself for the fight that you're about to take part in. The fight for his freedom.

How long will it take?

Hours.

Days.

Weeks.

* * *

There's something about the way that he smiles at you when he thinks you're not looking. He's driving you to meet his family, though you're still only just friends. Normally this would cause your mind to go into overdrive but today it's blank. You're relishing in the fact that you're finally wearing a pair of jeans that hug you just right, and they're not uncomfortable. The material slid up your thighs so easily, and the zipper so smoothly that you thought it must be a prank at first. When was the last time you wore jeans? You can't even remember. You've paired the jeans with heeled sneakers and one of his ARMY t-shirts since this was sprung on you at the very last moment and you didn't have anything else available. You've tucked the front of the shirt into the waistband of your jeans, leaving the rest to hang loose. Your hair has grown in the last eight and a half months, and you let the wild mass of curls air dry around your face today. The sunglasses you're wearing block anyone from seeing your eyes, but they're perfect for spying on people He holds your hand up to his lips and gives it a light kiss.

"Garcia, thank you for coming with me." He says to you, still holding your hand in his own. You look over at him and smile.

"Anything for you, my hot cup of coffee." You respond light heartedly. You laugh, loud and wild, tilting your head back. He starts to chuckle right along with you.

"My grandmother is going to love you. My mother maybe not so much." He says and you turn to look at him.

"Nobody can dislike me, I'll have her loving me by the end of the night."

He helps you out of the car with Roxy at his heels. You reach down to pet her and she licks at your hand. He holds your hand as you walk up to the side of the house, and you think it's strange, but you don't disentangle yourself from him. You let him lead you to his family, introducing you to his grandmother, his parents, his aunts, uncles, and lastly his three brothers. You smile and play with his nieces and nephews, you sit with Roxy as his father tells you stories of his childhood. You listen to his mother talk about you in Spanish to his grandmother, but you can only make out a few words. Beautiful being one of them. Haunted being the next.

You have fun. Genuinely.

It's a light hearted feeling, to just let go. You relish in the weightlessness of an empty heart. You notice him looking at you as he's drinking a beer and talking with his brother, Samuel you think his name is. He lifts the bottle up to you and you wave back as you turn your attention back to his father, Carlos, and continue to listen to the story of how toddler Luke loved to eat soap. You laugh again, and it's the best feeling in the world. Everything has melted away, there's no Derek, no BAU, no serial killers. There's just you, him, Roxy, and his family. He approaches you and when he reaches you he leans down to kiss the top of your head, you've pulled your hair back into a ponytail now, and your cat earrings are proudly on display. He checks in on you, making sure that you're okay before going to talk to his grandmother. They're only a few paces behind you, but with the story his father is telling you, you can barely hear their conversation.

"You seem happy, Lucas." You hear her say, and from the corner of your eye, you can see her pat his cheek. He smiles at her, holding his hand over her own.

"I am happy, Abuela." He looks over to you, and you silently thank whoever is listening for your sunglasses, because you stare right back at him. "She makes me happy." You smile.

"I'm glad." She says, reaching to her left hand to pull something off of her finger. "I want you to have this, baby." She continues, placing something into his palm.

"I can't Abuela." You hear him say, trying to hand the item back to her. You see the sunlight glint off of the diamond.

"You can and you will." She responds.

"We're just friends." You hear him say, trying once again to hand her back the ring.

"Your grandfather and I were just friends too you know. But when the time is right, you will be prepared." He smiles down at her and leans down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Gracias, Abuela," He says, pulling her into a hug. "I'll let you know when the time is right."

* * *

You sigh as you curl your toes into his plush carpet after taking your shoes off. You turn to look at him as he walks through the door with Roxy at his side. You untuck the shirt from the front of your jeans and he laughs at you running your feet across the carpet, it's something you do every day. And even though he's offered you numerous foot rubs, you still prefer this method.

"Am I ever going to get my shirt back?" He asks, and you look up at him.

"Did you want it back?" You ask him, turning to walk to what you refer to as your side of the couch.

"Not really, besides it looks better on you anyway." He says, grinning at you as he grabs himself a beer from the fridge. "Do you want anything?" He asks but you're already behind him in the kitchen. You're fiddling with the hem of the shirt, and you're extremely nervous. You look down at your feet and notice that he's wearing the black cat socks you bought him the other reach around him to grab a bottle of water from the open fridge. Uncapping the bottle you bring it to your lips and drink. You can see his Adam's apple bob as he too takes a sip from his bottle, swallowing hard.

You wonder what the hell it is that you're thinking as you plan out your next move. Do you just lean in and kiss him? Do you pull him towards you? Do you wrap your arms around his neck and drag his face down to you? Do you even go through with this? Yes, it was a nice day, the best one you've had in eight months, but do you really want to change this? Do you really want to ruin the friendship that you both have built together? You went from hating him, to ignoring him…..

You choose to lay your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you. You sigh, thinking that this is nice and that you could once again get used to it.

"Did you have fun?" He asks, releasing you and walking to go sit on his side of the couch. He places his arm on the back of the couch and you settle in next to him, sticking your toes under Roxy, who opens one eye to look at your feet.

"I did. Your family is nice." He laughs, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch over you. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

"Garcia, I want you to know that I want you. I want you more than anything in the world. And when we get together, because we will, I want it to be because you want me and only me. I want you to be ready. I don't want it to be because Derek came back and fucked with your heart again." He sighs, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "You need a friend right now, more than a boyfriend, and I'm going to be that friend for you."

But you don't hear him.

Because you fell asleep the moment he kissed the top of your head.

You're safe, Penelope. He won't hurt you.

Ever.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

You decide to start seeing a therapist.

It took a lot for you to come to this decision.

In fact you agonized over this for weeks. Your mind is constantly racing as you run. Running used to provide you with clarity, but in the two months since Derek reappeared in your life, everything is a mess again.

So you run.

You shower.

_You run._

You cry.

_**You run**_.

The first time you go to see your therapist, you notice how sterile it feels. There's no color here, and that's not because you can't see it. She has decorated in whites and silvers, things that glitter. Usually you would love to see glitter, but in this moment, you've come here to bare your soul to a stranger, and glitter is of no consequence to you. She is sitting in a winged back chair with her legs crossed over the knee. She has a notebook perched precariously on her knee with a pen poised in her delicate little fingers. She smiles up at you, clicking on the end of her pen, and relaxes her shoulders.

"Hi Penelope, it's nice to meet you. My name is Dr. Hart, but you can call me Rebecca." You nod your head, walking around to sit down on the couch. Weren't these things supposed to be comfortable? You sit with your legs together and your hands clutching each other in your lap. You've littered your hands with rings today, the newest being an eternity band given to you from Roxy for your birthday. You fiddle with the green gem band and turn to look up at your therapist…Rebecca.

"Hello." You say. Turning your eyes to look at her.

"How are you today?" She says.

"I'm fine." You respond, closing yourself off to her. She places her notebook and pen down on the table in front of her and clasps her hands together, turning to look at you.

"Penelope, this only works if you're willing to talk." Rebecca said, sitting back in her seat. You sit forward and look at the piece of paper. Your name is scrawled at the top in addition to the date in the right hand corner. Just like in grade school.

"Electronic records are easier for people like me." You say to her, sitting back in your seat.

"And who are people like you?"

"Formerly?" She nods. "A hacker, recruited by the FBI."

"And now?" She asks.

"Now, I'm a Technical Analyst and Special Agent for the Behavioral Analyst Unit with the FBI." You say, smiling at the sense of pride that still emulates from you when you utter those words.

"Tell me about your work." She says, picking up the pad of paper again.

"I'd rather not." You reply. "It's a messy business, lots of blood, too much blood. Too much hurt." You shake your head. "Work isn't my problem, I can compartmentalize work. Well except for when I let work sleep with me."

"What do you mean by that?" She continues. "Letting work sleep with you."

"I mean, I'm a stupid girl, with stupid feelings."

"Can you elaborate?"

"I just need to stop myself before I need another 11 year mistake with Luke."

* * *

You go to see Rebecca again the following week. And the week after that…

You see Rebecca for two months before you actually discuss what you came to her for.

"Is today the day?" She asks, much like she does every week. You nod.

"Today is the day." You say, getting settled on the couch after kicking off your heels, and you tuck your feet underneath you.

"Where do you want to begin?" She asks, and you sigh, pulling the pillow further under your head as you lay down on your side.

"The beginning?" You ask in return. "It's really hard to pinpoint where this all started."

You start to talk, about the first time you ever spoke to Derek, about the first time he ever kissed you after a case. When he pressed his lips gently to yours and your heart melted into a puddle at his feet. You were his from then on out. You tell her about the first time he fucked you inside of your office, right there on the floor, and at the time you knew it was inappropriate, but he made you feel so good that you didn't care. And how it was a weekly deal from there on. You tell her about how it continued even when he was with his girlfriends. You tell her about how hurt you always were when he left but how relieved you were when he came back. You tell her how used you felt. Especially when he met Savannah.

You tell her about how upset you were when he left you without a single word. How torn to shreds you still are over his disappearance. How the colors were gone from your life, how everything turned from sunshine and rainbows… You tell her about how the colors came back one by one, starting with basic blue and honey brown. You tell her about Luke. You go into detail about Roxy. You tell her about running, about how it made you feel, about how it saved you. You tell her the reason that you're here is because there's something wrong with you, _obviously_. How is it that you can continue to fall for co-workers, ones who obviously don't want to be with you?

You detail how if felt when he took you to a family function to introduce you to his family. You detail how later that night you listened to him profess to you that all you need is a friend, and that's what he will be to you. You disclose the intimate details of your life to this woman. You found that you've come to like her just a bit. You tell her that you love him, and the fact that you love him is the reason that you have to distance yourself from him.

But the fact that you don't want to distance yourself from Luke is what is tearing you apart inside. Losing him would be like losing the color again in your life. Losing him would be like losing a limb, it would be losing Roxy too. Losing him would be ripping your heart in half and throwing one half of it into the trash. You don't need to hurt yourself more.

She asks you to elaborate on the color aspect of your story. And so you tell her about how when you were with Derek you could see color. You could see the blues, greens, yellows, pinks… You could see the sparkles, the sunshine, the good in the world. You could see the good in Derek's heart, the good that you knew was there, the good that everyone could see. Except for when he was inside of you. Then you couldn't see the color, but you never minded it because you loved him. And then when Derek left everything went gray, everything went dark. And when you met Luke, the colors came back into this world again. And you didn't want them to be there, but they came anyway. You tell her how Luke climbed into your life mile by mile. You tell her how Luke helped you see yourself, for the person you really were and not the person Derek wanted you to be.

You finally see yourself.

You look at the clock realizing that you've gone over your hour, and you sit up, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. You tuck your hair behind your ears, and look up at Rebecca. You're looking for guidance. She looks up at you, smiling while she finishes her notes.

"I'd like to see you next week." She says once she puts her pen down. "Bring Luke."

* * *

You let yourself into his home and kick of you heels near the door. He's sitting on the couch drinking a beer, with what looks like a football game on the TV. You put your purse down on the bench you bought for his entryway, and padded over to sit next to him on the couch. Reaching up you grab the bottle from his hands and take a long sip, letting your lip dart out to lick the beer from your lips. You hand the bottle back to him.

"Hard session?" He asks, reaching out to take the bottle back, his eyes darting from the game to your face. He smiles baring his teeth and you find yourself smiling back at him.

"Long, actually." You sink into the couch, letting your head rest on his thigh. You pick at the non existent lint on his pant leg. Your sleeve is covering half of your hand. "She wants you to come with me for the next session." He leans back into the couch cushions and lets his right hand rest on your hip. He uses his left hand to raise the bottle to his lips again, finishing off the bottle.

"I can do that." He says, setting the bottle down on the side table. You look up at him. You can see the sun shining off of his hair and you notice the hint of red in it. You want nothing more than to run your fingers through it while his naked body is pressed against yours. You shake your head, turning your eyes back to the game, and letting the calm of being here wash over you. You lay your hand flat against his thigh and imagine the skin that is underneath, the muscle that is peppered with hair there. You sigh, closing your eyes, and you rest.

* * *

You go running several times over the next week. The team has been in Vermont for five days now, and there's something clawing at your stomach. His house feels empty without him in it, like the largest part of the home is missing, and so you move back to your own for when he's gone. Roxy lays on the edge of the bed, her head resting on your feet. She whines, and you smile sadly at her.

"I miss him too." You say to her. Reaching over to pull your cell phone off of the bedside table. You dial his number and listen to it ring for a full minute, calming when you hear his voice.

"Garcia, hi." he says, breathless into the phone.

"Roxy and I wanted to say goodnight." You whisper into the phone. He chuckles.

"I miss my girls too." He responds. You hold the phone closer to your ear, your heart beating quicker than ever.

"Rebecca seemed to like you." You say, attempting to keep the conversation going.

"Did she?" You smile at the receiver.

"She did."

"I'm glad I got to go with you."

"Me too." You pull at the loose threads on your blanket, pulling, pulling until the stitch has crinkled the fabric. You debate snapping off the thread but instead, you stretch the fabric back out. "She gave me homework." He laughs again.

"Aren't we too old for homework?" He responds. You can hear the snap of a can of soda opening on the other end of the line. You imagine the bob of his Adam's apple and shiver at the thought of kissing it runs through you.

"You are, I'm still young." You tease him. He barks out a loud laugh and you can envision his eyes shut through the phone.

"Watch it, Garcia." He warns. "We get home tomorrow, are you home?"

"I came back to my apartment, actually."

"Really?" He sounds shocked and a bit disappointed, but you let it go. "Want to tell me what your homework is?" He asks. You shake your head.

"No, but I think I can show you when you get back."

"Good, I have something for you. You're going to love it."

"What is it?" You ask him, sitting up. "I love gifts!"

"It's a surprise." He says, chuckling. "You're an easy woman to please."

"A surprise!" You exclaim. "I love surprises."

"I know, Flower. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Luke."

You slide down further in the bed, calling Roxy to cuddle near you and slide your eyes shut. You place a kiss to the top of her head and as you fall asleep you feel her cuddle in deeper.

He falls asleep thinking about his girls, wanting, waiting to get back home to you both.


	6. Chapter 6

You wake the next morning in the same position that you fell asleep in. Roxy is snoring lightly in the bed next to you, sprawled out on her back, with one leg twitching. You reach over to rub her belly in the spot that she likes. Being cooped up in your apartment for a few days has caused the both of you to develop cabin fever so you decided to go for a run. It's a cool morning out and you decide to grab a hoodie to shield your arms from the morning chill. The sun feels good on your face as you stretch in front of your building with Roxy sitting beside you. You don't notice it but as you are stretching there is a gentleman coming around the corner with his own pup, Max you think his name was.

The man smiles at you and waves. You smile back.

"Long time no see, Penelope." He says to you in greeting as he unclips Max's leash. You watch the puppy run in circles in the courtyard.

"Yeah, work has been busy. How have you been Ryan?" You ask him, reaching down to pat Roxy on the head when she starts to whine next to you.

"I've been good." You smile at him, genuinely happy. You remember his girlfriend leaving in a blaze of curse words, strewn clothes, and insults. She paused in the hallway to glare at you, as if somehow you were the cause for their separation. But you were too hung up on Derek then to see any other male as attractive.

_You were too hung up on Derek to live._

The reminder caresses your skin, gentle as this morning's breeze and you smile at the progress you've made.

"I've been meaning to ask you out for some time now." He begins and you turn your head to look at him. "I told myself that if I ever saw you again, I would." You smile at him and think to yourself. A quick pro con list runs down that brain of yours, calculating the risk. He'd have to accept Luke of course and the oddity of the statement strikes you. But it doesn't strike you enough for you to decline the date.

You set the time for tomorrow at eight.

* * *

When you return to your apartment there is someone in there and for a second you're confused. You open the door to see Luke standing in your kitchen with a cup of coffee to his lips. His go bag is on your couch and it looks like he's made breakfast. Roxy beats you to him for her hug, but you let yourself wander over to him, coated in a thin layer of sweat that is now reabsorbing into your skin. You let yourself sink into his embrace, a calm washing over you. The silence settling between your breasts and touching your heart. He kisses you on the forehead and you break away, grabbing his cup of coffee you settle into one of the bar stools that you bought a lifetime ago.

"So I completed my homework." You say casually. He raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"What was this homework you were going to show me?"

"Well it wasn't show, as much as ask and accept I suppose." You say finishing off his coffee before he refills the mug and drags it back to him across the counter. He looks tired as if he hasn't slept in days and you wonder what exactly happened on this last case. But you decide that story can wait until you get back to the office for the debriefing, you'll know soon enough.

"I was supposed to ask someone out on a date, or accept an offer." You continue, and he smirks at you over the rim of his mug.

"I accept." He says, placing the mug back on the counter. You laugh and shake your head.

"That's the beauty, Ryan, my neighbor, he asked me out this morning while I was getting ready for a run with Roxy." You don't notice the way his body stiffens under your words, or the harsh look in his eye as he turns his back to you and faces the stove. He leans against the counter and from this angle you can tell that he's rubbing his eyes with his hands. He takes a deep breath before continuing and it sounds like he is choosing his words carefully.

"So, you used Roxy to get a date?" He questions and it's then that you notice the hard edge to his voice, so you stand and walk over to him, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches away from you and for a moment you are shocked. He's never recoiled from you before.

"I didn't use her. I was taking her for a run, Luke." You defend yourself, backing away from him slowly, still reeling from the fact that he doesn't want to be touched by you.

"Don't go." He says to you, after taking another deep breath. "Please, don't go out with him."

"Excuse me?" You say, and you're snapped into the past, of a similar conversation that you had with Derek about Battle. Something in the back of your mind tells you to calm down, tells you to listen, but you don't.

"You heard me." He snaps at you. "I don't want you seeing him." He walks towards you and it's your turn to flinch away from his hands. You stare into his face, your jacket in your hand, and your hair halfway out of it's ponytail.

"You don't want me seeing him?" You repeat, giving Luke one last time to change his answer before you really lose it. Please keep calm, Garcia.

"Exactly." He says, nodding his head to punctuate the word.

"I see." You say, and you do see don't you. You see that he loves you. "So you think that because I'm so damaged that I shouldn't see anyone? Is that it? That you don't want to keep cleaning up this blubbering idiot so it's best if she doesn't date right?" You start raising your voice. Your face has gone red, and you can feet the heat between your shoulder blades. Oh Garcia, that's not what he said.

"I didn't say that." He defends.

"No, but it's what you meant isn't it?" You ask again, moving further away from him. Roxy has placed her paws over her ears, and the only time she does that is when you're both yelling at each other from separate parts of the house.

"No." He says, moving closer to you. "I love you, Garcia. I fucking love you. That's why I don't want you to go." He finally approaches you and folds you into his arms but you fight him. You're pushing him away and before you know it he releases you.

"You don't love me, Luke." You say, wiping the tears from your eyes. "You can't love me, it's not good for either of us." You walk over to the door and hold it open. "You should probably go." He stares at you with wide eyes before he springs into action and grabs his go back and whistles for Roxy to follow him. He places something on your counter near his unfinished cup of coffee.

"I do love you. I just wish you could see it." He says before brushing past you. You close your eyes because you don't want to see what happened to the colors once he left. You don't want to see what the pain in your heart has manifested in the harsh light of day. You just don't want to see. He's down the hall and around the corner before you open your eyes.

The key you gave him sits near the coffee.

It was blue when you gave it to him.

Now it's a dark gray.

* * *

You haven't talked to Luke in three months.

You haven't run in three months.

You haven't breathed in three fucking months.

But things are good with Ryan, he's not your coworker, and when you finally let him sleep over he calls out your name and not someone else's. He calls you Baby and it doesn't tear your heart in two. He treats you well, shows you off, opens doors for you. He's a regular Prince Charming.

But he gets upset when you don't call him when you say you're going to. He gets angry when you get called into work in the middle of the night for a case. You found him pouring water into your sneakers on the day you decided to go for a run again. But he apologizes and buy you flowers, and he tells you that you're pretty. So you forgive him.

He tells you that his friends are more interesting, so you don't go to JJ's birthday party, even though you planned it. He tells you that he loves when you're around him, so you start to work from home more. He tells you that you love him, and for some reason you believe him when he says it. The team is worried about you, sure, but you convince them that you're okay. _Ryan is just a private person_ , you said, _and this is new, so we want to keep it to ourselves._ You noticed how Luke looked in that moment, the pain that radiated from those gray eyes that used to be brown.

You've learned to live without color for three months, but it's ok. Because you understand gray, you love gray and gray loves you.

He tells you that your clothes are too tight, and in order to meet his family you have to dress differently. So you do. He tells you that your hair is too wild, and that in order to go to dinner you have to tame it. So you do. He tells you that the color of your lipstick is too red, and he wants you to stop wearing makeup. So you do.

There's a lot of things that you do for this relationship, but you love him, so you put up with his demands.

* * *

You've started to talk to Luke in the past three months.

Your legs have lost some muscle in the last three months.

You've gained weight in the last three months.

Luke notices the change and approaches you one day outside of Quantico. Ryan is there to pick you up, because he told you that people are crazy and drive like maniacs, and he would feel safer driving you to and from work. So…you let him. But nobody lets Ryan do anything do they Penelope. He takes what he wants, when he wants, where he wants, and you find that you're in too deep to stop him.

_**You love him, don't you Penelope.** _

Luke's hand on your shoulder snaps you back to the present conversation, and for a second you can see the colors again. You look up into his eyes and clutch your purse closer to you. You beg him with your eyes to see you, to actually see what's happening to you, but he doesn't. And then there's Ryan whose sliding his arm around your shoulders and kissing you on the temple. His fingers are digging into your upper arm, and the too big sweater that you're wearing is already hiding the yellowing bruises from last week, but you don't utter a sound. You bid Luke goodnight, telling him that you'll see him tomorrow, and walk to the car with Ryan steering you the whole way.

You sit in the front seat of his car, silently so as to not further upset your boyfriend, and you wonder how in the hell you got yourself into this mess.

It's been six months now. You count backwards, and think back to the day Luke told you he loved you, and you shoved him out of the door and out of your life.

It's been a lonely six months.

You miss Roxy.

You silently climb the stairs at the apartment building you both still share, and in the last six months he's asked you to move in with him. Used to having Luke around all the time, you accept, because this is a good thing, you thought. You walk into the living room you share with him, with pictures of his family and friends littered the walls, and not a single knick knack of yours is in sight.

You sit on the couch.

You wait.

You know what's coming and so you brace yourself for it. You steel yourself with good memories, of the healing you managed to do in the ten months after Derek and ten months before Ryan. The ten months where it was just you and Luke and Roxy and everything was good, everything was colorful, everything was light, everything was pure.

"You let him touch you, Penelope." He says calmly, shutting the door with the faintest of clicks.

"I'm sorry, Ryan." You whisper, not looking directly into his eyes.

"You're always sorry." He snarls, grabbing you by your hair and dragging you off the couch.

Yes, Penelope, you're always sorry, but you don't deserve this.

* * *

You pretend to sleep with his heavy arm draped over your stomach. When he has finally passed out next to you, you lift his arm off of you, wincing at the pain and slide to the ground. You move silently to the closet where your old clothes are stored, thankful that you told him that you were going to donate them. You find Luke's ARMY shirt and a pair of yoga pants on the top of one of the boxes, along with your old keys. Grabbing both you slide your feet into the nearest pair of shoes you can find and you flee. You don't bother to shut the door behind you in fear that he will be able to hear it snap shut. You've got your phone to your ear and you're dialing for a cab and telling it to meet you ten blocks out of the way. At the High School. You run, like you haven't run in six months, but still you push forward, and you wait for the cab, hiding out of sight and checking around the corner in case he followed you.

Will you always feel like this? _Probably._

When the cab finally arrives you realize that you have no where to go, but you look down at your keys and blurt out his address. You remember the neighborhood as the cab drives through the streets, and a sense of calm washes over you. Glancing at your phone you see that you don't have any missed calls and it's fast approaching two in the morning. When the driver pulls up in front of Luke's house you realize then that you forgot to bring an ounce of money with you. The cab driver takes one look at you and sighs. You make a mental note of the cab number and vow to pay them back ten fold. The walk up to the door is longer than you remember it being but you race forward and fumble with the keys in your hand.

_He's changed the locks._

It makes sense, you suppose. But it doesn't hurt any less, and now you sit outside on his front step. You're quiet for a few moments, until you hear the shrill notes of your ringtone and see Ryan's face flash upon your screen.

_He knows._

And so you do the only logical thing that you can think of.

You bang on the door. You call out his name. You start to cry.

When did you become so weak?

Luke opens the door bleary eyed and shirtless in a pair of boxers. Roxy is at his side and when she sees you she runs over to you, circling around your legs before running back into the house. A welcome home of sorts.

But you cry, and you throw yourself at Luke, and in his sleepy haze he wraps his arms around you closing the door and locking it.

"What happened, Flower." He says, pulling out the old nickname from what seems like a lifetime ago. "What the hell happened to your face?" He sounds angry, and so you recoil from him, sinking yourself further into the couch. He reaches out with a wet face cloth to clean the blood that you're sure has dried on the right side of your face.

And so you tell him. And as you speak you can see his face get darker, his eyes get angrier. You try to stop, but he gently reminds you that he's not going to hurt you. And you continue.

When he's done cleaning your face, he stands up and guides you to his bedroom. He's still using the same bright blue sheets as before, and you notice that you can see colors here, but that's another story and another explanation. He calmly removes your shoes and peels back the blankets for you. You're still trembling but as long as he's here you'll be ok, you tell yourself. He'll keep you safe. But when he turns to his closet and proceeds to get dressed, you become uneasy. It wasn't until he reaches up to his safe and unlocks it grabbing his gun and credentials that you start to panic.

You beg him not to leave, screaming at him to stay with you, but he ignores you. Leaving you in his bedroom without a single word or glance. You hear the loud slam of the door, leaving you utterly alone with Roxy, and you cry harder than you ever have before.

When he returns hours later he undresses silently, putting his gun and credentials away, before he crawls into bed with you. He calmly pulls you closed to him, hugging you tightly, and it's then that you calm down enough to slip into exhaustion. You sleep.

You don't realize until the next day that you were using the wrong key.

* * *

**A/N:** **Did I say that we were close to the kiss? I lied, but he did tell her he loved her, but damn that Derek for breaking her heart so that she didn't believe him.**


	7. Chapter 7

The sun is shining through his half closed blinds when you wake in the morning, It's casting a soft light that permeates the bedroom and from where you lay you can see small particles in the stream of light. His arm is tightened around your stomach which has gained a roll in the last six months. You try to move but his arm flexes around you, holding you close to his body, and you resign yourself to laying on your side next to him until he wakes up. For the first time in a while, you feel safe. It's a comforting feeling, knowing that he has you held close to his body, with his back facing the door. He's molded himself around you, making you feel smaller than you actually know you are, but instead of suffocated, you feel safe.

His breath is soft on the back of your neck, it's sending a chill down your spine, and you if you close your eyes you can pretend that the last six months did not exist at all. He shifts behind you, and that's when you feel it. And Boy Wonder would rattle off some insane medical journal title informing you that this happens to about eighty percent of the male population several times a night. And you remind yourself that this is just biology, and of course, his blood is constantly moving, but you're finally in bed with Luke. This is a place you didn't think you'd ever be or a place that you didn't think you'd ever allow yourself to be.

His hand splayed across your stomach is a harsh reminder that six months ago you could have woken up like this, but you chose instead to show him the door, literally. His fingers twitch against the soft fabric of his shirt as it shifts across your skin, and it's then that you remember that you never put on a bra when you left Ryan's apartment last night. Suddenly you're hyper aware of every thread of his ARMY shirt sliding across your hardened nipples, and you wonder if he can feel the change in your breathing. You wonder if he can feel the heat that is radiating off of your body, and you wonder if the wetness that's pooled between your thighs has gotten onto his.

But he shifts, loosening his grip on you, and all logical signs are pointing to you slipping out of his embrace to use the facilities, but you find yourself turning to face his chest. Coming into your view is an expanse of darkened skin, smooth to the eye but if you look closely there is a patch of brown hair between two perfect pectoral muscles. Leaning back a bit you can see the same brown hair trailing down the middle of his abs, and disappearing into the band on his boxers. You reach out and lightly run a finger from the top of his underwear to the middle of his chest, and you hear him hiss in his sleep. His member twitches against your thigh involuntarily, and so you push yourself forward.

You want nothing more than to feel good in this moment.

You haven't felt good in so long. So you shut your brain off and react.

Your lips gently land on his chest and move upward slowly, his eyes flutter open as you land a partially open mouthed kiss to his neck and he hisses, whether it's from pleasure or pain you're not aware. But judging by the dark color of his eyes and the way he pulls you tighter against him, you can safely bet on pleasure.

 _This is it,_ you think kissing your way up his jaw, peppering his cheeks with quick kisses spurred on by his shortened breaths, _everything that went wrong never happened._

But as quickly as it started, the illusion shatters around you like a broken mirror in a stupid fun house.

"Don't" his voice rings out, loudly as if magnified in the early morning sun, his voice is gravelly and you want nothing more than to close your lips over his, and it would be oh so easy considering your own are hovering mere inches above his own. "Don't" he repeats. He releases you, and cold air whooshes around the space where your bodies were sitting flush against one another. He's sitting up with his back to you now, and you can see that he is sitting with his elbows resting on his knees with his head in his hands. He's breathing heavily, using the same technique he taught you when you were having a panic attack over Derek. You recoil from the middle of the bed, shoveling yourself closer to the headboard, and wrapping the blankets around you for safety. You suddenly feel cold.

"There's no denying that I want you, Flower." He whispers, his voice reaching your ears on a particle that you're staring at in the stream of light. "But not like this, never like this." He continues, standing to put his sweat pants back onto his body once he's regained control of certain parts of it. He moves around the bed to kneel by you. "You've been through something so traumatic, that neither one of us would ever forgive ourselves if we crossed that line today." He presses on, reaching out to brush his hand lightly down your cheek and you hiss in pain, remembering briefly the beating you took yesterday.

"I love you, Penelope Garcia." He says, withdrawing his hand quickly. You nod your head in understanding, but the comprehension isn't completely there so you stare into his honey eyes, and try to smile. You're sure that it comes off as a grimace as it hurts to even attempt to move your lips.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, sure that your breath must reek as you can't recall when the last time you brushed your teeth was. "For that day, for not telling you then…" you trail off as the tears start to come now, you sniffle rubbing at your eyes fervently, wondering for the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours when you had become so fucking weak. He shakes his head, pulling your hands away from your face.

"Another time, Flower."

You nod.

* * *

For the next few weeks, as your face is healing, you hide at his house in shame, moving in and helping yourself to his wardrobe since you'll never get yours back you suspect. You're working nonstop, that brain of yours constantly moving in order to put the pieces together to get Spencer released from prison. You're eating blueberries, sharing with Roxy who hasn't left your side since you came back when you get the phone call that Spencer is being released. You stand from the couch where you feel as if your ass has made an indent in the microfiber material. Things have been tense between you and Luke lately, since that first morning, and you can't remember the last time you showered and so you race into the bathroom, stopping to grab his favorite - _your favorite shirt of his -_ and that same pair of yoga pants you wore when you came running back to him.

When you say tense, you don't mean that he's not speaking to you, it's the way that you're so embarrassed to fully look him in the eyes. He keeps telling you that it's fine, and that one day soon you will both have your time together, but you keep avoiding eye contact. You think back to that morning and how you felt, as if nothing was wrong in the world, as you shampoo and condition your hair with whatever he picked up for you at the store. You have no idea how he managed to get your car to you, but it's sitting there in front of his house when you finally gather up the courage to walk out of his front door with Roxy at your side.

You close your eyes and turn your face up to the sun as you slide your arms into a too big hooded zip up sweatshirt, and jog down the short walkway to your car with Roxy at your heels. You immediately lock yourself into the small car, before turning the key into the ignition, and making sure that Roxy is safely laying on the seat next to you. Your fingers tremble as you speed down the highway, passing cars that you thought housed Ryan, and when you reached Quantico you quickly attach your new badge to the zip up and race into the building and for the elevator.

You pace the hallway once you reach the floor that housed the BAU, and your heart stops every time the elevator dings behind you, until the one time that it's actually them and you let out a heart wrenching sob. You throw yourself at Spencer, clutching him so tightly to your body, that you're sure you've snapped a rib. You feel him hug you back and you release him, holding him at an arms length in order to get a good look at him.

"What happened to your face, Garcia?" He asks. You shrug brushing the question to the side, and glancing over to Luke in the process. He comes over to you, tentatively reaching out to you before deciding to place his hands on your shoulders.

"Garcia has left Ryan." He says, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. The team looks at you, looks at the yellowing bruises on your face, and looks at the murderous look in Luke's eyes. Thankfully they understand and you're embraced in a group hug the likes of which you've never felt before.

"It's good to have you both home." Rossi says as you all disband. You're standing too still to hear anything, trembling, before you feel a comforting hand grasp yours.

"It takes time, Flower." He says, guiding you to your office. You nod, not daring to use your voice at the moment.

"I'm going to call Rebecca." He continues and you look up at him, nodding. He sits you down in your favorite chair, and pulls his phone out.

"I'd like to make an appointment please." He says, and you tune out. Reaching out to grab the black and white stress cat that Luke bought you months ago, you squeeze it lightly and you laugh as you hear the meow.

"I love you too." You whisper to the cat. "I love you too, Luke."

But he doesn't hear you.

* * *

There is no room for failure, you tell yourself as you run the trail for the second time that day.

Your brain is working on overload, and for some reason, you woke up with the desire to run until your legs fall off. Luke joined you for the first go around, before he got called to pick up Roxy from the groomer. You decided that after she is safely in the car that you want to go for another four miles and you ask Luke to drop the both of you off at the trail. Wondering silently when you're going to feel whole again.

You and Roxy are racing through the trees, coming through the opening and jumping over the heavy chain. You come to a stop in the middle of the parking lot, doubling over, and trying relentlessly to catch the breath that is evading you.

"Hello, Penelope." You freeze, your back straightening immediately. You immediately scold yourself for not listening to Luke when he told you that dropping you back off wasn't a good idea. But you're just finding your footing in this world again, and you wanted independence. You wanted to not be carted too and from places, you wanted to be strong enough to survive an outing without backup. You wanted to live again. Was that so much to ask for?

Yes, you stupid, stupid girl. What were you thinking?

"I've been looking for you." He says, walking closer to you. You take a step backwards, pulling Roxy with you. "You were hard to find." He looks down at Roxy, smiling at her. "So you ran back to Luke?" You find yourself nodding your head, fear taking over you again. _You thought you were over this._ You step back, looking down at the ground.

"I'm sorry." He continues, reaching out to touch you. "I miss you, I love you, please come home." He says. You start to listen, telling Roxy to stay put, but you continue to listen. You figure if you keep him calm, appease him for long enough, Luke will be there to pick you up. And so you continue talking to him, with Roxy in the middle of the both of you.

You can feel all the places that he used to hurt you.

"I didn't know where else to go." You say, reaching down to fiddle with the hem of your tank top.

"You should have stayed at home." He says, stepping closer to you. "Your home is with me, Penelope." He reaches down to pet Roxy and you stand frozen. He's too close.

You breathe.

In through the nose.

Hold.

One.

Two.

Three.

Out through the mouth.

"No." You say, pulling Roxy backward with you. "You hurt me, Ryan."

"I was trying to teach you a lesson, baby."

You shake your head. Only a few minutes left now. He reaches out to grab your arm, and you think he's going to be gentle but he grips you so tightly that you scream out in pain.

It's then that you hear the familiar click of a safety lock releasing and you sign in relief.

"Let go of her, now." Luke's voice remains steady, calm. He has his gun trained on Ryan, finger closer to the trigger, but not touching. You feel the grip on your arm tighten and you wince in pain, but he lets you go. He puts his hands in the air, turning to face Luke.

"Your second watch dog is here baby, does he always come when called?" Ryan taunts. Luke doesn't blanch, he doesn't take his eyes off of Ryan but he speaks to you slowly.

"Garcia, take Roxy and get to the car, okay?" He says, his right arm is still firm, steady. His left hand is supporting the weight of the gun. You nod your head, moving slowly around Luke before you break into a run and lock yourself in the familiar Jeep. You roll the window down slightly so as to hear the conversation.

"I guess you forgot my warning from two months ago," Luke said, clicking his safety back on and holstering his weapon. "If you ever come near her again I will have you arrested." He continues, stepping closer to Ryan. "And if that doesn't work, I'll hurt you the way you hurt her." He's toe to toe with Ryan now, "and if you still don't get the fucking message, I'll bring the entire force of the bureau down on you for touching one hair on her head. You'll feel that crippling weight until the day that you die." He reaches out to brush the link from Ryan's shoulder.

"Are we clear?" Luke nods before he starts walking backward towards the Jeep.

"Good, now get the fuck out of my sight."


	8. Chapter 8

_This can't be happening._ You think.

_No, no, no, no, no._

_You love him, but he'll never love you back._

_Especially not now._

_Not like this._

You pace back and forth in the bedroom you currently share with your co-worker, and if that isn't a conundrum you truly don't know what is. You've admitted to yourself that you love the man whose name is on the deed to this house. You've probably always loved him. The moment you laid eyes on him you fell for him, you know it, he knows it, they all know it. But you were so blinded by the hurt that the fiasco of a relationship with Derek put you through. You were too stupid to realize that everything you've ever wanted had walked through those elevator doors almost 16 months ago. You sit down on the edge of the bed, on his side, and you clutch your stomach. You wonder exactly what would have happened had you kissed him all those months ago when you wanted to. What if…

But your mind can't dabble in what ifs any longer. Time has effectively run out.

You lay back on the bed, feeling for the throw blanket that you bought for those times when you needed to crawl in the middle of the king sized mattress, to shield yourself from the monsters that you were convinced were underneath. You start to cry as you pull the blanket over your body, curling yourself inward. The monsters are everywhere, even inside of you now.

 _Two months._ You think. _Two months of normalcy. Two months of…_

Your eyes grow heavy as you fall into a fitful sleep. You dream of colors swirling around.

You dream because all of your dreams are shattered now.

* * *

You feel yourself being shaken awake and you open your eyes, staring up at his face. The onslaught of tears are immediate, and he starts apologizing, backing away with his hands held up…palms facing towards you.

"Garcia, I'm sorry I scared you." He says slowly, he's standing about a foot away from the bed now. You shake your head, slowly lifting yourself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. You let the blanket pool in your lap while you reach up to wipe the tears off of your cheeks.

"It's not…you didn't scare me, Luke." You say, sighing. "I have to tell you something." He's leaning against the dresser now, obviously giving you space. You don't have the heart to tell him that you don't want space, that you want to be held by him. That you're sorry that you didn't believe him when he said he loved you before. You slide yourself to the edge of the bed, planting your feet on the floor, and glancing down at your red painted toes. You pull the blanket around your shoulders and walk over to him. You stand directly in front of him until he uncrosses his arms and opens them up to you.

"You're going to hate me." You continue, speaking directly into his chest.

"Never." He says, applying pressure to your back with his hands.

"I'm going to have to move out." You feel him stiffen around you.

"If that's what you want, but you don't have to." He tells you, leaning back from the embrace to look down at you. He moves a strand of hair from in front of your eyes and places a kiss on your forehead.

"No, I have to." You say, pulling yourself back from him. You walk over to the bathroom taking a deep breath before you reach down into the trash can and grab the item that is causing you such distress. You take another ragged breath, holding it to your chest before you walk back to Luke. You hold it out to him, not expecting him to take it from you, but he snatches the item quickly.

"Penelope…" he says, looking over at you. There are more tears now, hot tears that are scalding your cheeks as they roll down your face.

"Don't say anything." You say, angrily wiping at your face. "This is my fault."

"It's not your fault." He says, tossing the item onto the dresser before coming to envelop you in a hug. "You're not going anywhere." He promises, holding your head to his chest. You can feel him trembling as he holds you to him, and you wonder if he's angry, but from the sniffling you can hear, you decide to ignore the tears that are surely falling into your hair.

Your eyes flicker over to the item sitting on the dresser. It landed face up and the result glares at you.

Positive.

_This can't be happening._

* * *

"You can't be serious?" He's yelling now, but not at you. Never at you. His hands are running through his hair. You're openly staring at him, with your hands wrapped around your stomach, trying to shield the baby from hearing this fight. Roxy is in the corner with her paws over her ears again, you smile at her. It's been two months since you found out about the pregnancy. You're referring to the baby as a she, not that you know the sex, you're not sure that you want to. You haven't told anybody besides Luke, and you have sworn him to secrecy, not that he would tell the team. Though you're sure that they already know, they are profilers after all.

"He's the father." You say, trying to defend your point of view. You're tired, and you know that he's just trying to understand your thought process right now. But for some reason, he can't seem to wrap his mind around the idea of you going to see Ryan. Of you going to tell him that he is the father of your surprise baby. _This is something that needs to be done,_ you rationalize, _he needs to know. He needs to make his own choices._

"He's a piece of shit, Garcia. He hit you." You glare up at him. "I'm sorry." He continues, apologizing, his face and voice softening.

"I know he hit me, Luke, I know he hurt me in more ways than I care to mention, but he's the father." You can tell that your words are hurting him, and you wonder if he's feeling right now all those things you felt when Derek told you about Savannah and then had Hank. He's kneeling down in front of you, touching your knees. You reach out to touch his face.

"He's a sperm donor at best," Luke whispers to you, and you nod.

"He's that too. But if you were fathering a child, wouldn't you want to know?" You ask him, and you see another flash of hurt spark briefly in his eyes. He's nodding his head at you, laying his head on your knee. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling how thick the strands are. You still have one hand placed on your stomach, "She's a little avocado today Luke." You say. "He should know about it."

"I'm coming with you." He says, reaching up to place his hand next to yours on your stomach, you place your other hand over his.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

You're standing in front of the door to Ryan's apartment. You're clutching Luke's hand in your own and your literally trembling. You've had your hand poised to knock for about three minutes now. You turn to look at Luke with your eyes wide, and he can see the tears that are situated in them. He slides his arm around your waist, kissing your temple, before raising his hand and knocking roughly on the door in front of him. You squeak and clench tighter onto his hand. You pull away from Luke, stepping away from the door until your back hits the wall behind you.

"Luke." You whisper. "I've made a mistake. I can't do this." He turns to you, standing with his hands in his pockets.

"Penelope Garcia, you are the strongest woman that I know. You have made up your mind to tell him, you were determined to tell him, so that's what we're going to do." He pulls you into a hug. "And no matter what he says, no matter the outcome, I will always be here for you and our avocado." He smiles at you. "I'm sorry, your avocado."

Once he steps away from you everything becomes clear again. You've stopped crying, and for right now you're not scared. Your trembling has subsided, and you stand waiting for the door to open, but it never does. You knock another three times before you decide to leave. Luke has your hand and walks down the stairs before you.

"Penelope, dear, is that you?" You pause on the steps, looking up and a smile breaks out on your face. You're smiling so wide that your cheeks are hurting.

"Mrs. Mullen!" You exclaim, turning to walk back up the steps. "How are you?" You ask her giving her a hug. Luke waits on the steps for you, giving you a moment.

"I'm fine dear, how are you?" She asks, and you briefly tell her that your relationship with Ryan ended badly and that you were here to speak with him and hopefully get some of your old things. Mrs. Mullen grabs your hand firmly in hers and pats it gently.

"He moved out about a week ago dear, found himself a new girlfriend." She says to you sadly.

"Did he leave a forwarding address?" You ask.

"You can ask the property manager, but I don't think so." She smiles over your shoulder, looking at Luke. "But it seems you've moved on too, dear. And he's much better looking than Ryan, and in great shape too!" She whispers, winking at you. You chuckle and reach out to give her another hug.

"He's a great guy, I'm lucky to have him." You say in return, looking over your shoulder to smile at Luke. He catches your eye, smiling widely back at you. "It was great seeing you Mrs. Mullen, tell Mr. Mullen that I say hello." She nods, continuing into her apartment.

"You too, dear." And then she is gone.

 _Ryan moved away._ You tell yourself.

_You made an attempt. At least you tried._

_Move on Penelope, both you and the avocado are better off._

* * *

It's not until later that evening when you're sitting on the couch watching a movie while Luke sits at the kitchen counter filling out the paperwork he refused to get done until the last possible second that you allow yourself to think back to the conversations of the day. You're staring at his profile, the pictures on the screen long forgotten. His brow is furrowed in deep concentration as he is scribbling words haphazardly onto the sheet of paper in front of him. You roll onto your side, pulling the covers over you, getting more comfortable as you continue to stare at Luke.

You notice the way his tongue darts out every so often to wet his lips. You notice the way he scratches his beard when he stalls in his writing. You noticed the hurried motion of his wrist on the paper causes a shuffling sound that reaches your ears over the sounds from the TV. You listen to his soft breathing, and you notice the rise and fall of his chest. You sit up on the couch, reaching out to grab your bottle of water from the floor. Roxy hasn't moved from her position near your feet, and you don't want to disturb her. But you're suddenly so overwhelmed with feelings for the man sitting across the room that you can't bear to sit still any longer.

"Luke?" You call out to him, and he turns his head to look at you out of the corner of his eyes.

"Mm." He says, averting his eyes back to his paperwork. Scribbling out the last bit of his sentence before he turns to look at you.

"I love you." You say. And everything goes quiet. You can't hear the TV or the sound of his wrist shuffling against the paper, you can't hear the sound of the faucet dripping into the sink. But you can see the way his eyes softened and turned to an amber shade, you can see the flush of red that invaded his cheeks, you can see the splotch of black ink that that ended up on his middle finger. "I'm in love with you." You clarify, watching as he lets out the breath he had been holding. He puts his pen down, closing his folder over both it and the paperwork before he stands from the chair. He's already running his fingers through his hair, which you know he only does when he's frustrated or nervous. He turns back toward the counter, placing both palms onto the surface and looks down at the granite countertop. You're playing with the eternity ring from two birthdays ago, and you're waiting for him to say something. Anything.

He takes a deep breath, sucks it in so raggedly, that you're alarmed for a moment wondering what is going to happen next.

You're too busy in your brain that you don't notice that he's now standing in front of you until he takes the remote from your hands and presses the off button before helping you to your feet. He places his hands on your shoulders, telling you to remain there and goes and checks that both the front and back doors are locked. He's back at your side, holding your hand in his own. You're staring at him openly, confused.

"Luke?" You ask.

"Hmm?" He says. You wonder for a second if he heard you, but you know that he did.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" He shakes his head, leading you through the kitchen.

"No." He says, and you feel your heart fall. You know where this is headed, and you wonder where that dustpan you used to clean up the shattered pieces of your heart almost two years ago went. "I'm going to show you." He continues, and your eyes snap up to meet his. "In this bedroom, in this bed." He says, closing the door behind the both of you, chuckling at the whine that Roxy let out at the barred door. "I'm going to show you how much I love you because actions speak louder than words, Flower. And words are not needed at this moment." You nod your head at him, sure that you look stupid, before he leads you over to the bed and tells you to close your eyes.

The colors that manifest themselves in this room are brighter than ever tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

"Garcia, I need you to do a search…" JJ's voice trails off as you and Luke spring apart from each other and away from the computer as if the keyboard burned you. Neither of you are quick enough to minimize the window you were looking at and you silently curse yourself, and him, for not checking that the door was locked behind you when you decided to do this bout of online shopping at work. JJ lurches forward as Prentiss walks into her.

"Ow, JJ, why did you stop?" Prentiss says, reaching out to steady JJ. You think to yourself that you should have used the distraction in order to wipe all traces of baby furniture from your computer screen. You're looking at Luke, half horrified, half amused.

"Garcia, is that baby furniture?" JJ asks. "Are you…you're pregnant?" She continues.

"Did you do this?" Prentiss asks, standing in front of Luke with her hands on her hips. "SSA Luke Alvez, you will answer me right now." He chuckles nervously holding his hands out to her.

"No," he says "No, unfortunately I'm not responsible."

"Oh no." She says turning to look at you, there is pity in her eyes, and it burns you to your core.

"It's fine." You blurt out. Turning away from the other occupants in the room. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't consent to this either." You glance over at Luke. He has stiffened near Prentiss, and for a second you scold yourself for being so careless with your words.

"What do you mean you didn't consent to this?" He demands, coming to sit near you again, taking your hand in his.

And so you tell him the story of how you became pregnant. Of the fight that you and Ryan had one night when he caught you looking at your old photo book, the one with the blue cover, the one littered with pictures of him and Roxy. You tell them about how he yelled and screamed at you for hours, before you shut down completely and tuned out, you didn't bother to defend yourself, instead getting up and going to bed. You were exhausted, not looking for a drawn out fight, and that must have pissed him off more than he let on. Pissed him off more than you fighting back ever could. He was used to you defending yourself, defending you relationships from before him, defending Luke in particular. You tell them, looking at him with wide eyes full of unshed tears, about how you awoke to a pressure on your chest, of how you lay there that night, letting him do things to you as your mind drifted away to the days filled with color. Of how, when you closed your eyes that night you pictured his face, and it gave you the strength to get through what your loving boyfriend was doing to you.

You realize that this is the first time that Luke is hearing of how you became pregnant with your little eggplant in the first place. You remember that at 23 weeks pregnant her brain and hearing has been developing more, and that if you're lucky she's beginning to recognize your voice. But you turn to look at Luke and notice that his face is set into harsh lines and the last time you saw him like this he calmly got dressed and left you without a word, left you for hours alone and scared until he came back and held you to him as you fell into exhaustion. You reach out to him, but he steps back with his hands on his hips, turning from you without a word and leaves your office. You don't call out for him, just sink into the arms that wrap around your shoulders as you watch him walk away running his fingers through his hair.

Hours later, you return to your office after sitting in the bullpen talking with your co-workers. You haven't seen Luke since this morning, and you wonder exactly where he went when he disappeared earlier. You're surprised to find him sitting at your computer, cursing as he's conducting a search. You walk up behind him and place your hands on his shoulders, you don't try to stop him, instead telling him where he should narrow his search results. He turns his head and kisses the top of your hand before you withdraw it and settle on the couch he dragged in here for you a few weeks ago. Your eyes grow heavy and so you close them, sleeping peacefully as Luke continues tapping away at your keyboard.

It doesn't go unnoticed when the team walks by that he is the only one you've willingly let touch your computer.

* * *

You're sitting on the couch reading the newest _What to Expect when You're Expecting_ when Luke comes home and puts your feet into his lap on the couch. He's rubbing the soles of your feet and you're wondering again exactly what it is that you did to be lucky enough to be blessed enough to be loved by Luke Alvez. He's moved his hands to your right calf and you place the book on your extended stomach, closing your eyes and moaning.

"How big is she this week?" He asks, and you feel movement from her. You gasp, moving your hands to your stomach quickly.

"Luke! She moved…I mean I read that she would, but she's the size of a head of Cauliflower today and she can recognize voices…baby, it's me. It's mommy." But there is no movement from her, and so you prod your stomach just a bit, hoping that the harsh movement will cause your baby to wiggle. But you get nothing in return. He laughs and your little cauliflower moves again, seemingly closer to the side of your stomach that Luke is near. "Say something."

He leans down, keeping his lips close to your stomach and lays his hand on the other side of yours, and begins to speak clearly.

"Hola, mi pequeña flor." He begins, and you immediately feel her move around inside of you. You're smiling at the sight of his brown hair and you reach out and run your fingers through it. "No puedo querer conocerte." He looks up at you as he places a kiss to your stomach, and your heart is filled with such joy, which is a feeling that you haven't felt in the longest time.

Everything is safe here.

Everything is warm.

You close your eyes as Luke continues to talk to the little head of cauliflower, it's mainly in Spanish, which you remind yourself that you really need to figure out the language so that you can understand what it is he is saying. You open your mouth several times, the question that you have been dying to ask Luke on the tip of your tongue. But you close your mouth again, letting your mind wander to the many things that you still have to accomplish in the next 3 months before your little one arrives. You know in your heart that the man speaking to your child through the many layers of protection that your body provides will be the best father you could ask for. And even though Luke has stepped into the role of daddy seamlessly, you still feel as if you should ask him to make it official.

It's a simple question.

_Will you…_

_Luke, I was wondering if you would consider…_

_Dad has a nice ring to it no?_

_Would you prefer to be called daddy or papi?_

Instead you lift his chin so that he is looking into your eyes and smile, you nod your head in the direction of the bedroom and he gets the hint, helping you off the couch, and herds you into the room. Closing the door to the incessant whining of Roxy as she is locked in the living room for another night.

* * *

You can hear him smiling through the phone.

"The Doctor said she is healthy, about four pounds and she's a little on the short side at fifteen inches, but that's ok, there are heels for that." He scoffs on the other end of the phone.

"And what food are we comparing her to this week?" He asks. You scold him and he laughs loudly. "They know, babe. They're profilers, and JJ just may be even worse than you at keeping a secret." He says.

"A pineapple." You say, unlocking the door to the house, and putting your purse down on the bench in the hall. You place a hand on your now well rounded stomach, and continue. "She's the size of a pineapple, and she misses you, I'm sure of it."

"I miss you both, and Roxy." He says to you, and you're already filled with such love for this little life inside of you that you don't know if you could love something else as much as you do her. But then he speaks, and you know that your heart that once was taped together, sewn together, thrown in a bag and tossed in the trash, can afford to love again. You realize how wrong you were over two years ago when you first laid eyes on this man. He can love you. He does love you. You deserve every little bit of love that you are being handed in this world.

"Luke," you begin "I have to ask you something."

"Do you want to ask me now, or when I get home, we're getting off the plane now." He says and you smile, knowing that you'll be wrapped in his arms in under an hour. You know exactly how you're going to ask him to officially become the little pineapple's father and you couldn't be more excited.

"I'll ask you when you get home, I love you."

"I love you too, Flower. I love you, too."

You hang up with him, walking further into the house, making sure that Roxy has both food and water before opening the back door and letting her outside to stretch her legs. As you stand and watch her run you miss the feeling that you used to get as you would run on the dirt trails with both Luke and Roxy, and you decide that you will in fact buy that too expensive jogging stroller. You turn away from the back screen door to locate your laptop when the doorbell rings, and even though you have years of experience with the BAU you're in such a good mood that you open the door without inquiring who is on the other side. You immediately feel stupid and start to scold yourself when the voice you hear on the other side of the door causes your blood to run cold.

"Were you ever going to tell me, Penelope?" He asks and you wrap your arms around your stomach, trying to shield your pineapple. He reaches out to rip your arms away from your body and you hiss in pain as he twists your wrist extra violently.

"How far along are you?" He demands, stepping into the house, pushing you up against the wall. "Answer me." He yells, kicking the door shut behind him.

"8 months." You say, when his hand closes around your throat. You yank on his hands, trying to pry them away from your neck.

"Mine." He says, placing a searing kiss to your lips.

 _This is it,_ you think, _he's finally come to kill me._

* * *

The door is slightly ajar when he returns home from the tarmac, and he enters the house quickly with his gun drawn. He can hear Roxy howling from the front closet and he opens the door for her stepping back as she takes off throughout the house. He clears the rest of the rooms before making his way to the back bathroom where you finally barricaded yourself. He's looking at the pictures scattered around the floor, there's broken glass everywhere, and the bed that he normally keeps made up is so disheveled that he wonders what happened here. He notices the blood on the sheets and his heart stops, walking quickly to the bathroom and opening the door.

He sees you laying there on the bottom of the shower, completely naked and bruised. He reaches in to turn the water off hissing at how cold the droplets are when they hit his skin. He reaches down to press his fingers against your neck, checking for your pulse and thanking god that you're still alive. The colors have flickered out a long time ago, but you beg them to come back silently. You pray for their return, because when they're here everything is okay. Bad things come when the colors are gone.

You can hear Luke on the phone, he's calling the police and when he's off the phone with them you hear him talking with Prentiss. He's placed a blanket over you, not wanting to move you in fear that he'll make everything worse.

You don't have to go to a doctor to confirm what you already know, so you lift yourself up from the floor, leaning your back against the shower wall.

"Luke…" you call out weakly. He's kneeling down in the shower beside you in seconds, and you look know, noticing how the water and blood quickly seep through his pant legs. He looks down at the shower floor and shudders, closing his eyes briefly before making eye contact with you again. He can see the finger marks on your neck, and though he's seen enough blood in his life, just seeing it pool around you in the bottom of the shower makes him sick to his stomach. He swallows, trying to compose himself, but you can already see the storm brewing in his eyes. They are shining with unshed tears and you want to reach out to soothe him, but you sit there silently clutching at your stomach. You're silently telling your baby to move, and you look up at him again.

"Say something. Anything." You beg him, and he clears his throat.

"Hola, mi pequeña flor." He says, tears streaming down his cheeks, but you feel nothing. You close your eyes thinking back to a few months ago when she moved only at the sound of his voice.

"I haven't felt her move, Luke" you whisper up to him.

_You're not warm here._

_You're not safe here, either._

"Why isn't she moving?"


	10. Chapter 10

_**0-3 Months After Birth** _

You're sitting on the uncomfortable white couch in Rebecca's office, holding a pillow in front of your stomach. You're staring off into space and you can see her mouth moving, but the sound of her voice doesn't reach your ears. You're not entirely sure that you want to hear what she has to say. It's more of the same thing you've been getting for the past three months. The same pitying gaze, the same mumbled apologies, the same averted gazes.

You make people uncomfortable now.

That's the new reality you have to learn to live in.

It's a lonely reality that you're currently residing in, and sometimes you let Luke in, but most times you've shut him out so much that he feels like a stranger sleeping next to you in the bed. You wonder how he can fall asleep when you're still lying awake at night. You wonder exactly how it's so easy for him to shut his brain off and slip away into the realm of dreams. But you know it's not easy for him as you often can hear him crying in the shower, and you wonder if he's staunching his emotions to make you feel better, so that he can be strong for you.

You don't want that.

You don't want this.

You never wanted this.

You bring your attention back to the present, but you still can't seem to hear the words that are coming from Rebecca.

"Im sorry, what?" You ask. Briefly making eye contact with her.

"How are things with Luke?" She asks for a change of pace. You laugh and shrug your shoulders.

"He's okay, I think." You begin. "He's angry, I think he blames himself for not being able to save her. But it's not his fault," you continue while plucking at the loose thread on the edge of the pillow. "I did this. I made a choice and this is the consequence of that choice. My daughter is dead because of me." You finish, your voice shaking.

Rebecca puts her notebook down, neatly placing the pen on top of it. She takes a sip of her water and turns to look you directly in the eye.

"You are not responsible for your daughter's death. You did everything right in regards to her care, you got yourself out of a toxic relationship and home, you did everything you could. The same goes for Luke, Penelope. He could not control the movements of Ryan anymore than you could. If there is one person to blame here then it is Ryan, and I think deep down you both know that." She sits back in her chair, folding her legs over each other.

"Tell me about after you got to the hospital." Rebecca requests.

You start to shake.

"I've never seen Luke so angry." You begin, choking on the words. "He wouldn't speak. Except to the Police. He went into investigator mode, and even though Emily, our boss, told him that he couldn't investigate, he did anyway. He called his grandmother to come sit with me." Rebecca is listening to you now, she's stopped taking notes.

"And you, how were you?" Rebecca asks.

"I was…numb. I still am." You say. "I think I always will be." Rebecca nods.

"Remember a few years ago when you were sitting here telling me about how numb you were after Derek left you?" You turn to glare at her. "You healed from that. You can heal from this." She holds up her hand, halting you from opening your mouth to speak. "I'm not saying that you will forget about this, or that it will be easy for you, but you will heal from the hurt. The wounds are still fresh, they're still open, and I know it will take time. But I'm willing to work with you, and Luke."

You nod, looking at her, and then looking at the clock. You stand, and shrug your shoulders, leaving without a word. Your next appointment is in two days, You visit this office three times a week.

You're a mess, but who can blame you, after the tragedy that you experienced. It's ok, you think to yourself parroting the words that Luke said to you some time ago, it's okay to ask for help when you need it.

Walking out of the building you see Luke leaning up against his Jeep waiting for you.

"Hi." You say.

"Hi." He replies taking off his sunglasses so that you can see his eyes. You give him a half hearted smile. He reaches out to touch your arm before thinking better of it and running his hand through his hair. "We found him. He's been arrested and is being transported back here. He'll be arraigned tomorrow morning." He says, rushing the words out. "Did you want to go." You hold your hands to your stomach as the air leaves your lungs. You feel the world spinning around you, and for a moment you have a sense of clarity and you nod. Luke reaches out to embrace you gently, holding your head to his chest, and for the first time in a while when the tears fall, they are from better feelings than loss and despair.

You whisper her name.

_Amalia_

* * *

_**3-6 Months After Birth** _

Your lungs are burning with each step that you take and you're sure that you forgot how to breathe back there around mile marker three. Your legs are moving so quickly, and the crisp air that slides across your skin is a welcome change to the heated pace that carried throughout the Autumn months. There are dead leaves scattered around the trail and there is a light layer of snow covering them. Your breath is coming out in puffs of white and you're sure that your face is red and numb. Your hair is pulled back, and you've recently added blue to the underside. Your mind is blank at this current moment, and all you can think of is making it around this trail one more time before you climb back into the Jeep and drive home.

Luke is away on assignment again, but at the moment the team is hunting the unsubs and your job is effectively done for the day, so you take this time to run away from your demons once again. The woods are silent around you, and once you would have been afraid of the dangers that lurk in the night, but now, you've already lived through the worst thing that could ever happen to you. You've come out stronger. The pain of losing Amalia pushes you out of bed each and every day. Urging you to be better, stronger, more cautious than you were the day before.

You speak with an ADA about once a month on the progress of the case against the man who ripped your world from you. You talk in harsh clipped tones of exactly what he did you to that day, your story never wavering, and each time you get through the story you are stronger. Your voice doesn't warble at the beginning anymore, but instead holds out until the end before you have to clear your throat from the pent up emotions. In return, his lawyer has tried to sway you, trying to garner sympathy for her client, trying to get you to drop the charges. But you never waver, Amalia's death was not your fault, this is something that you chant to yourself with each passing mile. It was his fault. He killed his own flesh and blood. You pray that he gets convicted, because you're not sure what you're capable of anymore.

And better yet, you're not sure that you could save Luke's soul if this monster gets to walk free.

You pass mile five with a yell into the forest, the noise ripping from you, sounding like a wounded animal. And deep down you realize that's how you feel.

_**Wounded.** _

Forever scarred by the sins of the past.

You check your watch and your pulse, wondering if you have time for another go around when your ringtone jingles from your arm.

"Good morning, crime fighters." You say as you're gasping for air. "What can I do you for?" You jog over to the vehicle and unlock the door before sliding behind the wheel. You take a moment to catch your very elusive breath. Your legs relish the feel of the leather of the seat in his Jeep and his scent is all over the interior. You inhale deeply as his voice comes through the line, telling you that they're coming home. The unsubs have been captured, there is no injuries to anyone on the team, and you smile. It's the same routine you both go through each day. You remember once about two months ago you didn't answer the phone and by the time you got back to your desk there were missed calls from the entire team, and you had to call Emily to stop him from renting a car and speeding back.

You're both still just learning to cope in a world where terrible things happen to good people.

In a world without Amalia.

In a world without color.

"We should be home in about three hours." He says.

"I'll be waiting." You drop his Jeep off at Quantico, leaving his keys on his desk and texting to inform him of their location. You climb into your car and make the drive home, remembering to use the back door.

You shower in the guest bathroom and before you know it, dinner is done and sitting on the stove waiting for his consumption. You stare out into the night, and grab a bottle of wine and a glass. And thinking better of it, on your way out of the back door you grab the blanket from the couch before you make your way to the table that's situated on the patio. Luke arrives a few minutes later. Greeting you with a hello as the gate slams shut behind him. Roxy is sitting just inside the doorway, her eyes trained on you. Luke kisses your forehead as an additional greeting before walking into the house to grab some of the food you told him was waiting for him.

"When did it all go wrong?" You ask when he comes back outside. He doesn't have an answer but instead pulls up another chair. His eyes are cast downward, playing with the food on his plate before he speaks to you. His voice cuts through the quiet of the night like a knife, it pierces through your skin and sinks deep into your heart. You grimace at the words he says, knowing the truth behind the weight of them.

"It would've been her first Christmas." He states, taking a bite of the food, and reaching out to grab your hand. You raise the glass of wine to your lips, drinking greedily before reaching out to pour the rest of the bottle into the empty space.

Empty, like you.

"I was going to ask you to be her father that day." You whisper into the night, the chilly air carries your words. "You are her father in my eyes, ever since that first day, but I was still going to ask you. I planned on putting Roxy in a "big sister" shirt and was going to have her greet you at the door." You take a small sip of wine. "It's all ruined now." You say, looking down at the red liquid. You're swirling the contents of the glass around and around, you've heard from Rossi that doing this helps release the flavor. You wonder if spinning yourself around and around will help release the demons that are haunting you.

You shake your head, taking another sip, letting the wine dribble onto your bottom lip, staining it red, like the angry scar that now adorns your stomach.

Jagged.

Serrated.

Rough around the edges.

"I would've gladly said yes." He replies, pulling the blanket around himself and moves closer to you. You don't notice the tears that are racing down his cheeks, but they match your own Penelope. "I still say yes. Amalia was my girl too." He whispers, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest.

You weep, openly, loudly, unapologetically. You let go of every pent up emotion that you have been harboring over the last six months. You open up to him again, letting him inside fully. And when you're done crying, and the wine is completely gone, and there's a frost on his half eaten dinner he reaches out to grip your face in his hands. He kisses your tear stained cheeks, your forehead, your nose, both eyes, and finally he kisses your lips so deeply that you can feel it in your soul. He kisses you for a long time that you get dizzy as his full lips move against yours, as his beard scratches your face, and his mustache leaves a red line across your top lip. His hands never leave your cheeks as he's kissing you through the tears, and when you've finally run out of breath he pulls back, placing one last gentle kiss to the fabric which covers your heart.

He stands and you stand with him.

He takes you to bed, leaving the dirty dishes to be covered under the freshly falling snow.

He makes love to you that night.

Whole, you're starting to feel whole again.

* * *

_**6-9 Months After Birth** _

Luke pulled over to the side of the road and blindfolded you, and you joke badly about how one of your cases that started like this ended with murder, and he whispered something under his breath that you are sure was an insult but you let it slide, because you love surprises.

And you're smiling, like actually smiling again.

You didn't think you'd ever get here.

When the car stops again he makes sure that you can't see anything and gently helps you out of the car. You walk a short distance being guided by him and he tells you to stand perfectly still as you hear a lock click and a soft jingle of keys. He tells you to step up onto a stone, and another and finally you step into something.

"Can I take this tie off now?" You ask, wondering if you could use it in the bedroom later, but those thoughts can be saved for another time. He comes up behind you and tells you to close your eyes as he is removing the tie, and when he tells you to open them he has wrapped his arms around your waist. He's laid his chin on your right shoulder, his face aligned with your own, and you can feel his facial hair on your neck.

"Surprise." He says as you take in the scene before you. "Welcome home, Garcia." He says coming from behind you and holding his arms open wide. You take in the scene around you, high vaulted ceilings, the windows that stretched from floor to ceiling in this room, the staircase that led upstairs which were covered in the same dark wood. You spin, your skirt twirling around you.

"You…" you trail off. "You bought a house?" You ask.

"I couldn't live there anymore." He says approaching you, "And if I was having a hard time, I know you must have been having an even tougher time." He takes you by the hand, leading you through the living room with it's deep blue walls and built in bookcases, he leads you into the kitchen with the electric range top and the double oven in the wall. There's granite countertops, you love granite countertops. You eye the island that's in the center and marvel at the space you have. Cabinets, so may cabinets. You turn and look into the backyard, noticing that your nearest neighbors live pretty far down the road.

Solitude.

You also notice the pool in the backyard, and you wonder why in the world he bought a house with a pool.

"So I sold the old house, and found this one." He holds up his hand as he walks back to the front door. You can hear him talking with someone. And before you know it he's leading the movers into the home who are followed closely by his grandmother. He comes back over to you, taking both of your hands in his before kissing the tops of each hand. He looks you directly in the eye, and you notice that they have lightened in color again, you can almost see the honey brown through the gray.

"We both deserve a fresh start, Flower, not that we will ever forget our Amalia, but I was going crazy there." He finishes before placing a kiss to your forehead. "Look around, get accustomed. It's ours." He walks off to direct the movers on where to take the furniture.

You're staring off after him with your mouth open, the crimson lipstick that you've painted on your lips a sharp contrast to your white teeth.

"My Lucas is a good man." His grandmother says walking into the kitchen. You nod at her, not trusting your voice. You're still staring off after him, thinking in your head that this place is huge, and that a fresh start is totally welcome here.

"Si, Mrs. Alvez, I don't know how I got so lucky." You finally reply.

"Alma, please. When I hear Mrs. Alvez I think of my mother-in-law, nasty woman. Great cook though." She says laughing. You run your hands over the countertops, walking deeper into the kitchen, they feel smooth under your fingertips. There's so much room in just this space alone. You're afraid to venture to the other parts of the house in case you get lost. And besides, you would like the tour he gives you to happen while you're both naked. Your cheeks turn red and you can feel the heat rising not only in your face, but between your legs.

"Penelope, sit with me." Alma asks as she walks over to sit on one of the bar stools. You're focused on the black cabinets, wondering if they're scratch proof. Trying to calm your ever racing nerves. You look up at the woman speaking to you with a squeak and walk quickly over to sit near her, paying attention to whatever it was that she wanted to say. You've started a friendship of sorts since she sat with you at the hospital the day you lost Amalia. She held your hand as you wept, trying to get you to calm down before eventually the Doctors had to give you something that caused you to sleep for what felt like days. But at that time the sleep was welcomed, because in your dreams you were still pregnant, Amalia was alive, Luke was a father and a damn good one at that.

Everything was good in the dreams. But then you had to wake.

"I lost a baby once…" she begins and your eyes snap to her face, recognizing the pain that radiates across her features. It's the same look that you wake up to each day. "Not in the same way as you, but still I know what you're feeling." She continues, and you can feel her pain. It's gripping your heart in a vice and squeezing until you feel as if it's not beating anymore. Your lungs are constricting and it's hard to breathe at this very moment. You try to not look so affected by her words but she can tell, and she smiles sadly at you. "It hurts, I know, even now I can't bear the tightness I feel in my chest when I think of him." She takes a deep breath.

"The one thing I remember, Penelope." She says, reaching out to grasp your hand in her own. "Is that even though Amalia is not here on earth, she will always be in your heart. She came from you, you will always carry her around." You nod your head again, letting the tears fall down your cheeks.

"That pain will never go away, my child, but you do have someone else to help share the pain. He's doing everything he can to remain strong for you, but he's a sensitive man too." She says, a gentle reminder to the man you already know and love.

"Yes." You say on a breath, nodding as you casually wipe at your eyes.

"Let's start unpacking." She stands, reaching out to pat you on the shoulder. "He may be sensitive, but his organizational skills leave something to be desired. Even with all that Army training." You laugh, a gut wrenching sound that claws its way up your throat and tears itself from your lips. You pause in your movements, wondering when the last time you laughed was, and decided that it feels good to feel alive again. To feel something, anything.

You look around and a sense of calm washes over you as you realize that you can see the colors again.

_Home._

* * *

_**9-12 Months After Birth** _

The letter comes addressed to you in the mail and you open it immediately. The paper is thick, and you wonder if this is what your tax dollars are being used for, thick paper that holds either bad new or good news. Thick paper that shows up unannounced and can ruin a person's day. The words are printed in a dark black ink.

You didn't stay long after the Jury declared him guilty of Attempted Murder, Murder, and Assault and Battery. You had already bared your soul to a courtroom full of strangers, family, and friends. And the moment you were excused from the tiny wood box that put you in the clear sight of the man that killed your child, you booked it out of the court room for the day. You remember that the Jury deliberated for an hour before they came back and gave the verdict, and then you felt free. Like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders, like you could fly again if you so chose to. You didn't look at him, you avoided eye contact the entire time, and it's not like he didn't try to talk to you. You were never more thankful for Rossi and Emily in those moments, as you kept eye contact with someone from the team at all times. There was no pity in their eyes and so you focused on them. There was no gaping hole of empty despair that you got whenever you looked at JJ, and there was no fire that you normally got when you looked at Luke.

Speaking of, you thinking, rushing around the house to find him. You find him in the backyard, mowing the expansive lawn for the housewarming party you were hosting the next day. He had finished cleaning the pool earlier in the morning, and you were relaxing inside with Roxy, watching TV because you woke up that morning feeling sick to your stomach.

Immediately he ordered rest and relaxation, claiming that you had been too busy getting the house cleaned up, and decorating, and meeting the neighbors, and actually working. You rush to the door but the fast change in movement causes your stomach to do flips and turns and you change directions. You've crumpled the piece of paper in your fist as you hold your hair back, not wanting to get vomit in it.

You don't hear him come up behind you but you feel the cool face cloth he places on the back of your neck and you wonder again, and probably not for the last time, how you ever got so lucky.

"I saw you running when I was coming in the door." He says in explanation. "Are you okay?" You nod your head, spitting into the toilet before standing up to rinse your mouth out. You grab one of the many spare toothbrushes that you insisted be kept in case of emergency guests, but you live far enough away that no one really comes to visit. You find you like it that way. You hand him the paper as you're finishing up and he's so excited over the news that he lifts you up and spins you around. Which, if you're following along causes your head to be right back in the toilet.

"I'm calling the Doctor." He states, leaving the room, but you call out for him.

"Don't." You say, repeating the steps from a few moments before. "I'm sure it's just a stomach bug." He shakes his head at you, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"I'm going to go get some medicine." He says, "you'll be okay for a few minutes? Lock the doors behind me." And then he's gone, snatching his keys off the hook near the door and you can hear the front door slam shut behind him.

"Silly man." You say aloud to Roxy, who barks in approval. But you listen, walking towards the front door to secure the latch. Your eyes make contact with the bright yellow calendar that you hung on the wall in the black and white kitchen and for a second you think back to last month.

* * *

_**12 Months - 8 Days - 4 Hours - 16 Minutes - and 22 Seconds After Birth** _

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed again, looking down into your lap, and wondering exactly how it is that you've found yourself here. There are tears on your face, some of them from pain, others from joy, but mostly they are from confusion.

Are you truly ready for this?

Can you go through this again?

But you take a deep breath and remind yourself that what happened last time, couldn't happen again this time. There is no way that life could ever be that cruel could it? You stand on shaky feet and pace the length of the massive bedroom, too big you think, but then again it wasn't too big as he was fucking you across the floor the other night. Then you made it to the wall too quickly, and you're sure you left a dent in the drywall from the sheer force of the copulation.

It's that, right there, the passion, the sex, the love, that led you to this position. And you decide that even though you lost Amalia, that you're both still feeling the agonizing pain that tears you open each and every day from her loss… This will be happy news. It will be welcomed news, or so you hope that it will be. You make your decision, standing in the mirror and washing your face in the sink, you wonder exactly how it is that you even got into the bathroom. Your mind isn't exactly in the right place right now, but you brush that aside and take a deep breath.

"Okay Penelope, you can do this. You. Can. Do. This." You say as you turn and exit the bathroom.

Making your way down the stairs, careful of your footing, you approach him slowly, quietly.

He's sitting on the couch watching a Baseball game on the TV when you approach him, sliding yourself next to him. You place the item he had gotten you earlier from the store into his lap, waiting for him to notice what you've placed there. He takes a few moments, so long that you're starting to get impatient that you take the item and wave it in front of his face. This isn't the first time he has touched something that you've peed on, you remind yourself when you start to question if you should have washed the test or not.

It's too late now.

You're looking at him and smiling. He has yet to look at you, but he is staring at the pregnancy test with the biggest grin you've ever seen on his face. He places his beer and the test on the coffee table, he leans forward to stare at the test like the world revolved around it, and you guess in a way it does now. He stands, without looking at you and walks out of the room. You reach forward to pick up his beer and bring it to your lips, before you remember, and place it back on the table. Your hands rest on your stomach and before you know it, Luke is back.

"Penelope…" he says, and when you turn around to look at him he's down on one knee.

_Yes_


	11. Chapter 11

_What if I'm not meant to be a mother?_

This thought runs through your brain over and over again. As you're loading the dishwasher and getting yelled at by Luke for lifting a finger. As you're doing the laundry, and again getting yelled at by Luke. As you're cooking, and what do you know, getting yelled at by Luke. He's not yelling at you to hurt you, and he's not yelling at you as in actually yelling. He's concerned, alarmed that you would even think to lift a finger when he's around and willing to do the work for you. You try to get him to see that you can't sit around for nine months while this child grows inside of you, but he won't hear it. He waits on you hand and foot. _Honestly,_ you think, _a girl could get used to this._

_What if I'm not meant to be a mother?_

You continue to ask yourself this question as your baby continues to grow inside of you. You find yourself disinterested in almost everything regarding the child. You turn your face away during your first ultrasound, instead choosing to stare at the gray blue shirt that Luke put on this morning. Your tears are silent as you hear for the first time this baby's heartbeat. You want nothing more than to be utterly happy for this life that you and Luke have created out of love, but instead, you're left thinking about the sins of the past. Left thinking about the life that you've lost, how do other parents get over this? You try to not resent Luke for his ability to be so happily involved in this child's life, but then again he didn't supply the DNA to make her. He supplied the DNA for this child. He's reaching down to grab your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, before you turn your head a little to look at the grainy ultrasound image.

"What if I'm not meant to be a mother?"

You ask Luke this question one day over dinner, your eyes cast downward to your plate, and you don't notice the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. He's stopped eating, and Roxy is looking at you with her head tilted. You're breathing is sporadic and there's a light sweat that's broken out over your face at this moment, but you continue to push your food around your plate. There are so many folic acid enriched foods on one plate that you want to scream, where are the damn nachos you ask yourself.

"I know it's a stupid question to ask, but this one feels different you know?" Luke has placed his fork down on his plate and pushes his chair back, coming around to kneel in front of you.

"You, Penelope Garcia, are so full of love that you are meant to share it with someone. You share it with me every day, and I love you for it. You're going to share it with our baby, and you're going to be a great mother, I know you are. The minute you see our child, you're going to forget all of these doubts." He says, reaching out to place his hand against your stomach. It's still flat, but his hand warms you to your core. You place your own over his hand and lace your fingers together. You smile at him as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss to your lips. At least his touch still calms every nerve in your body, even when it's setting all of your nerve endings on fire.

"Thank you." You whisper as he gets up to finish his dinner. At the kitchen table you've finally invested in, you remember walking through the furniture store, staring at all of the bland pieces before you found the bright yellow table caught your attention. You looked at Luke and he rolled his eyes, laughing because he really should have known that you wouldn't get anything other than the brightest piece in the room.

_What if I'm not meant to be a mother?_

The thought remains, you don't think it will ever go away.

* * *

The cool autumn air kisses your skin as it blows around you. The only structures here that can shield you from the air are the other headstones of the deceased. You're standing in front of the small grave that houses your daughter, and you're on your knees. The dirt feels cool against the fabric that is shielding your skin, and you really can't remember when the last time you wore something other than yoga pants. You try to think back to a day when you were okay, and you realize that it was before the positive pregnancy test. Before the engagement, before Luke was so excited that he was going to become a father. _Before._

You find yourself coming here more often, more than once a week since you've learned of the new baby. You spend hours here, sitting with your child, telling her your stories. You spend all of your time with her telling her about your past and the things you wished for her future. You sigh and begin digging through the soft earth at the bottom of the gravestone, trying to plant another small arrangement of hydrangeas. You spent a lot of time thinking about what her favorite flower would have been, and you conclude that the hydrangeas that used to grow outside of her nursery window at your old house would have been the first and last thing she saw each morning. With a shaking hand, you reach out to the headstone brushing your fingers across the engraved words.

"Hi, baby girl." You say, sitting back. You realize that those words don't have the same connotation that they used to. You managed to say them without the words leaving a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. You realize that people are supposed to protect their baby girls, they're supposed to love them unconditionally. You realize that you were never Derek Morgan's baby girl, you were just a baby impersonating a girl who was so starved for attention that you ignored the obvious signs. You shake your head, snapping your attention back to the task that you came here for.

"It's mommy." You sigh, clasping your hands in your lap after the hydrangeas have been planted, the earth packed around the roots. You bring your fingers together, nervously yanking on them. There's a small satisfying crack that resounds into the air, and the stiffness you felt in your fingers is relieved for a moment.

"I know I haven't visited in a while." You say, reaching up to wipe a tear from your cheek. "I have no excuses, it's just been really hard for me." You continue, looking up to the sky to watch a single bird swoop around in a lazy circle before landing on a tree. "You're not going to be an only child." You continue whispering. Your right hand tentatively lands on your stomach. You allow yourself a small moment of happiness, but the guilt that overwhelms you causes you to rip your hand away from your stomach instantly. "I'm sorry." You let out a loud howl, the sound ripping from you, tearing up your insides on its way out. There are tears pouring down your face but you're not bothered enough by them to wipe them from your face. It's been over a year but the wound is still fresh, Amalia's loss will never leave you.

"I know you didn't get the chance that you deserved." You say, moving yourself to sit on your bottom. "I'm sorry that I didn't choose better for you." You reach up to wipe your hair out of your eyes, smudging a trace of dirt on your forehead. "Luke would've been a great daddy to you. He loves you so much, and he's so hurt that he couldn't protect you. I should have chosen him before I ever met the man who gave you to me. I should've chosen better for you." You finally reach up to wipe at your cheeks, sobbing loudly. "I was supposed to protect you, Amalia. I'm so sorry that I didn't protect you. I'm so fucking sorry that because of my mistakes you didn't get to live the life you deserved."

You stay for a while, silent in the heat of the rising sun. It's bright around you this morning, and you listen for a long time to the chirping of the birds in the trees. Your stomach starts to growl and you realize that you can't remember when the last time you ate was. You pull a book out of your bag and crack open the cover, flipping past the title page and clearing your throat before you begin to read the first lines of _Goodnight Moon_ to your daughter. Once the book is finished, and your voice is completely raw, you stand on shaky legs, wiping the dirt off of your clothes before you lean down to press your lips against the top of her head stone.

"I love you, Amalia." You say, before turning to walk back to your car.

Leaving, in the light of the day, the stain of red painted lips on an innocent white slate of stone.

* * *

He finds you lying on your back in the yard a few days later. You're wearing sunglasses and his hooded sweatshirt, you're in a pair of shorts, and your flip flops are discarded near the edge of the pool. There's a small radio near your head, playing soft classical music, and you have it pointed towards your stomach. You don't notice him until he's laying in the grass beside you, placing his warm hand under your shirt and splaying his fingers widely to cover as much of the skin as humanly possible. He rubs his thumb back and forth on the top of your stomach. There's an immediate reaction of goose bumps that erupt over your skin, and a fire so deep that you think it will consume you alive if it's not doused when he touches you.

You wonder if it will always feel like this. You truly hope that it does. For a moment your mind is blank. You allow yourself to not be the woman who lost her child. You allow yourself to be a woman in love. You allow yourself to feel. You place your hand over his pushing it lower, past the waistband of your shorts, and before you know it, his fingers are working on your sensitive flesh. You emit loud moans into the backyard as he makes love to you in the grass, moving your bodies together to the sounds of the beautiful symphonies that are playing through the speakers. When you're finished he holds you close to him, both of you on your side, with your sweatshirt covering your bodies. He's placing kisses to the back of your neck and is still palming one of your breasts.

"I know you're having a tough time, babe." He says, rubbing lazy circles around your left nipple. You're focused on the ministration, barely hearing his words. "But I'm here for you, I'll always be here for you."

You nod, moving to grab his shift off of the floor before slipping it onto your body. He stands, reaching down to help you up.

"How about I cook you some food?" He asks. "What do you want?" You look up at him and smile.

"Nachos, I really want nachos." You say as you walk back into the house with him, forgetting your shorts in the growing grass. You sit on the kitchen counter with your legs open a bit. The cool granite is a shock to the back of your thighs as you watch him move about the kitchen. You give yourself a moment to think about how things would have been in this house with Amalia. She would have been sitting in a highchair at the end of the bar. You imagine her banging her spoon and a cup against the plastic tray, you imagine a happy little girl with blonde pigtails, screaming out with glee for her Papi. You imagine yourself laughing out loud as you place food in front of her and she immediately begins to feed herself.

You give yourself these little fantasies to cope with the pain of moving on without her. When he's done he walks over to you, kissing your lips after he pops a cheese covered chip into your mouth. His tongue darts out to lick the remaining cheese that dribbled onto your lips.

"These are heavenly." You say, reaching out to take another chip from the plate.

"You are heavenly." He says, reaching down between the two of you to roll his thumb against the soft flesh that sits in the middle of your legs. His fingers are inside of you before you know it, and you're more interested in what his fingers are doing than the nachos he made you. He makes love to you on the kitchen island, laying your body back, and placing his face between your legs. When you're finished he lifts you into his arms and carries you up a flight of stairs to the bedroom you share. He lays you down, covering your body with your favorite blanket and before you know it you close your eyes, drifting off for the first time in months, into a peaceful slumber.

While you sleep, you don't dream of Amalia, but instead of a little boy with sandy brown hair.


	12. Chapter 12

You're sitting in the local coffee shop nursing a cup of tea. The warmth of the beverage through the mug warms your fingers and you're wondering exactly what it is that you're doing here. But still, you wait, bouncing your right leg under the table, eyes flicking around the shop.

You do that now, pay close attention to your surroundings.

When you hear the bell jingle above the door you stiffen, gripping the mug in your hand tighter. You fear that you may break it. You can smell her perfume as she slides into the chair in front of you.

"Hello, Penelope." She says, flicking her hair behind her shoulders before holding up her left hand to signal the waitress. "Tea, black."

"Hello, Savannah." You say, trembling fingers lift the black mug to your red painted lips, and you take a sip. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"Mm…it's not so pleasant from my end. I haven't wanted to speak to you since we left." She said, folding her hands on top of the table, and looking you in the eyes. "Not since I found out you slept with my husband."

"We slept together. He was a willing party." You defend yourself and your actions. She laughs, leaning back in her chair and placing her hands on her stomach.

"We're having another baby." She announces. "I wanted to talk to you before I brought this child into the world. You're nice Penelope, you were nice to me, talked to me, made me feel comfortable in his life. Why?" She asks.

You look at her wondering exactly what you were going to say next. You look at her perfectly straight hair, her white teeth, perfect eye shadow. You wonder what it is that she has that you never did. What made Derek marry her but only lay with you for the night? What made her so special? But then you see it, you see the kindness in her eyes, the hurt that both you and Derek put her through, you see the tiny tremble of her fingers as she stares you down. You sigh, deflating, and place your mug down on the table.

"I'm sorry." You say. "I never meant to hurt you." She opens her mouth to interject but you hold your hand up to stop her. "I understand that even though I never meant to hurt you, I did. We did." You take a deep ragged breath and take another sip of your tea. "I loved him, Savannah. Like really loved him. I wanted to build a life with him, and at that time I thought you were just another girlfriend. You were someone who would be in his life and then out like all the others." You brush your hair out of your face, pushing your mug away from you. "But you weren't, he actually loves you, and our relationship had become so co-dependent that it was hard to break away from each other. It was after cases when he was lonely. I was here for him, I made myself available for him. He began to pull away from me, and I hated you for it, but at the same time you made him happy and that was the only thing that I ever wanted. Was for Derek to be happy. I'm so sorry Savannah." You take another shaky breath. And another, and a third. "I want you to be happy with him."

"I never knew." She said, sipping on her tea that arrived in the middle of your narrative.

"I didn't think you'd want to know, he never set out to hurt you." She nods sitting back in her chair.

"How far along are you?" She asks and you look at her bewildered.

"3 months." You say, placing a trembling hand on your stomach. "Luke tells me that the baby is about the size of a Minecraft Pixel. I didn't even know he knew what Minecraft was." Your eyes are closed, and you're gripping your shirt tightly in your fist.

"Are you okay?" Savannah asks you can feel her shifting to come closer to you.

"Don't." You say, breathing heavily. In through the mouth. Hold. One. Two. Three. Out through the mouth. "This happens frequently." You whisper.

"Panic attacks aren't supposed to be frequent." She says, reaching out to grab your wrist feeling for a pulse. "Your heart is racing, let's go." She continues, standing up and grabbing her purse. "We need to get you to the hospital."

"Ok." You say nodding your head, standing on shaky legs following the beautiful woman who tore the first love of your life away from you. But he was never yours, was he? He was never in love with you, he loved you, but he was never in love with you. You're very grateful for Savannah in this moment, and for a second you think back to the friendship you used to have with you. You're happy for him, you realize. The pain of him leaving you doesn't squeeze you like a vice anymore. You realize that you're at peace with him, but your heart is now racing for your baby, and you reach for your phone to call Luke.

* * *

"Where is she?" You hear his panicked voice before you see him. You try to stand up but Savannah places a hand on your shoulder, telling you to lay back. He comes racing into the room and you can tell that he was running his fingers through his hair on the drive over here, his eyes are frantic, and you smile at him.

"Flor, ¿estás bien? ¿Está bien el bebé?" You laugh, reaching out to touch his hand. Once you touch him he relaxes.

"Luke, I can't understand you." You say, bringing him back to what was happening in the room. He nods, taking a breath. He's reached down to kiss you on the lips before placing a hand on your stomach.

"How are you? Is the baby ok?" You nod.

"We're both fine." You look over at Savannah. "There's someone I want you to meet." You say, gesturing her forward with a large grin on your face.

"Savannah, meet my soon to be husband, Luke Alvez." She reaches out to shake his hand and he races around the bed to hug her.

"Thank you." He says, releasing her. "Thank you."

You watch them talk for a while about the danger your blood pressure was causing to your baby. You look down at the barely noticeable bump and you wonder what type of person he or she is going to be. You wonder how well they would have gotten along with Amalia. Would they have liked the same things, would they have loved to watch TV together? Would one love to dance?

Amalia.

You wonder what she would look like now. Would her hair be starting to curl out in that frizzy way yours did around two years of age? Would she have a large toothy grin and dimples? Would she be trying to read? When would she have taken her first steps, what would her first word have been? Who would she be…

You'll never know that now, and the thought of it causes a sweat to break out on your face, and you don't recognize the monitors beeping wildly around you until Luke is back at your side and gripping your hand.

"I miss her." You say looking up at him with tear filled eyes. He reaches out to wipe the moisture from your cheeks.

"I know." He says, placing a kiss on your forehead. Neither of you notices that Savannah was still watching, or that another person had joined you in the doorway to the room. But you could smell him, and that scent used to make your insides curl into a tight ball of desire. But now all it did was make you tell Luke that Derek was here.

"You miss who?" He says in his gruff voice, gesturing with his hand to ask the question if he could enter your room. You look at Luke and he nods once, placing one hand on his hip and the other through his hair. He breathes out a heavy sigh and speaks her name.

"Amalia." It's not the first time that he's said her name aloud but it rips through your heart like it was. There is despair in his eyes and the honey pot you get lost in is now a dark black color. He's shaking and dragging his hand over his face. It makes him look and appear disheveled. _This isn't him,_ you think, _something else has to be going on._ "Our daughter."

"Luke?" You call out and he's at your side instantly. "What's the matter?" You ask. "And before you lie to me, know that I know you better than I know myself." He shakes his head looking at you fearfully. He takes a shaky breath before leaning forward to kiss you. You're not paying attention to the other occupants of the room at this moment.

"What did the doctor say?" He asks, changing subjects. You glare at him, gripping his collar and pulling his face closer to your own.

"Tell me, Lucas, or I swear…" you trail off, there's nothing you're willing to take from him or yourself.

"Ryan filed for an appeal." He finally mutters after a minute of staring into your face.

"My blood pressure is too high, I have to relax." You answer his previous question before you start reaching around you to pull out the wires.

"Baby girl…" he begins and the entire room pauses for a moment. It's as if time stops when he utters those words. Your eyes flash over to his and he can see the hurt etched onto your face.

"You don't get to call me that anymore, Derek." You spit the words out of your mouth as if they cut you on their way. Words that used to fill you with happiness now fill your stomach with dread. "I'm leaving this place and going home." You say, motioning for Luke to help you out of the hospital bed. When your feet hit the cool ground you reach out for your pile of clothes and slip his green ARMY t-shirt over your shoulders and your yoga pants under the hospital gown before sliding your feet into a pair of sneakers. You're pulling your hair into a ponytail when you speak again: "And besides, I'm not going to sit around and let him kill another one of my children."

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

It's been three weeks since the team was called out on a case.

Three weeks that you've slept alone, on the couch, in your office.

Three weeks that Roxy has spent by your side because that house is too big for the both of you.

You haven't been sleeping well, this is apparent from the black circles under your eyes that grow more pronounced with each passing day. Before he left, Luke replaced your desk chair with something more comfortable that he had picked up for you. It came with an ottoman so that you can put your feet up when your ankles get swollen, which they do, frequently. You pat your stomach softly, thanking the growing child that's made your life uncomfortable. There is a slight pain that shoots it's way through your heart as you silently talk to your child while waiting for a call to come from a member of the team. You wonder how they are doing, and you wonder if they are safe. Dwelling on their whereabouts in Seattle is not going to get you any sleep tonight so you prop your phone up and mindlessly watch a TV show that you've seen a million times before.

You're so deep in thought that you jump when your phone rings and you answer it with a hazy hello instead of your usual witty responses. Today they've reached Penelope Garcia's House of Infinite Sleep Deprivation. _That's a good one._ You think to yourself as Emily runs down a list of things she needs you to cross reference and your fingers start to fly across the keyboard. You can hear him in the background, his voice sounds strained and after you tell Emily that you couldn't find anything you ask her to speak to him. He comes on the line quickly, and you instantly relax, feeling your eyes begin to droop.

"Hola, Flor." He says and you smile.

"Hi Luke." You respond suppressing a yawn.

"Are you tired?" He asks, instantly concerned. You imagine his hand flowing through his hair in this instant, his face etching into a frown.

"I haven't been sleeping well." You reply. "I haven't been sleeping at all." You amend. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." He says with a deep sigh. "I don't know when we'll be home, but I can't wait to see you." He continues. You nod, feeling foolish because he can't see you, and you can hear the commotion in the back of his call.

"Flor, I've gotta go, but I love you." He says and disconnects the line before you could tell him that you love him too. It was hard letting them all go out into the field when they were just your friends, your family, but now that he's your fiancé and the father of your unborn child, there's a new feeling. A deep seated fear that grips you like a vice day in and day out when their not at home in Virginia. You stand and begin to pace. Roxy, who is so used to this behavior from you by now, has kept her eyes closed and she's snoring softly. You want to go curl up next to her and fall asleep like you used to do, before everything got jumbled and you lost him. You want things to go back to being sunshine and roses, and not cloudy weather on the horizon.

You pace until he calls you back, there's a crick in your neck and a soft pressure in your stomach that you're sure is because of all the walking, so you don't say anything about it. You decide that if the pressure is still there in the morning that you will go and get a checkup. His voice is soft coming through the line, and you can tell that he's in the car with the others. He tells you that they came close to catching the UnSub but he got away at the last second. Luke tells you that he fell off the top of a fence but that he's okay, and when you start to freak out he tells you to remember about your blood pressure, and he swears that he's ok. So you take a deep breath, and hold it for three seconds, before exhaling through the mouth.

"Lucas Alvez, if you don't come back to me, I swear on everything I will make you regret it." You say through clenched teeth. He laughs, that deep laugh from the bottom of his gut, where his eyes crinkle and he licks his lips. You close your eyes and imagine him laughing in the SUV and you feel yourself growing sleepy again.

"I'll always come back to you, Flower. You're my happy ending." He says, but your breathing has evened out and your eyes have finally shut. He chuckles again when he can hear you snoring lightly. "Goodnight my love." He whispers into your ear before disconnecting the call.

* * *

Four weeks later you get the call that the UnSub is in custody, and you immediately stand from Rebecca's couch. You look up at her and smile, the biggest smile she's ever seen on your face.

"He's coming home." You say to her, holding your phone in your hand.

"When?" She asks, putting her notebook down, and you look up at her.

"I have to go." You say, grabbing your purse from the couch, and turning to look at the clock. "I'll reschedule. It's been almost two months." And then you're racing out of her office and to the red Jeep. It doesn't take you long to get to Quantico and then onto the tarmac, and when the security agents tell you that you can't be out there you level them with your best Garcia stare and tell them that your husband has been gone for seven weeks and you miss him more than anything, and if they don't let you through those doors your will use every single pregnancy hormone in your body to make them suffer. And when they finally let you through, after you had to break out the tears, you can see the jet touching down on the runway. You wait just outside the building in your dog patterned dress and your bright blue heels, you continue waiting with the excitement of seeing him bubbling up inside of your stomach. You're fidgeting so much that you feel like you're five again and in a candy store. You wait for the door to open and the second you see his curly brown hair you break into a run, something you realize you haven't done since the news of your pregnancy.

You launch yourself at him, ignoring all of the other "Hi, Garcia"s that surround you. You don't realize that he's turned around to catch you until you collide with his body. He's gripped you around the waist and pulled you into him so tightly as he presses his lips to your own kissing you hungrily. You realize then that not only did you miss him so much that it hurt, he missed you in the same way. When he finally puts you down he's instantly on his knees and presses his lips to your stomach, causing heads to turn in your direction once again. He looks up at you.

"How's my baby?" He asks as your eyes flit to the other members of the team who have been watching every moment of your reunion. They look shocked, and much like over a year ago Emily turns to Luke with her hands on her hips.

"You did this?" She asks, narrowing her eyes to look at him.

"Yes ma'am, I did." He says, nodding his head frantically at her. "And I asked her to marry me." He continues, announcing everything you've agreed on.

"And?" JJ asks, moving her hands, begging you to tell her what your answer it.

"Well obviously she said yes, JJ." Emily says, pointing to the diamond ring that is situated on your finger. You smile and turn back to Luke, pressing yourself deeper into his side.

"Congratulations are in order." Rossi announces, clapping Luke on the shoulder. "Dinner at my house." He says walking away from the younger members of the team.

"Are you okay, Garcia?" Spencer asks quietly and you smile up at him.

"I'm getting there, Boy Wonder." You reply, placing a hand over your small bump. "I'm getting there."

* * *

You're laying in bed with your head on Luke's chest later that night. You're both sweaty and your panting. Your hands are reaching up and you're playing with the hair that's sprinkled about his chest. You can hear his heart beating under your ear, and you wonder if he can feel your heart beating at the same rate. His hand reaches down to your stomach, rubbing it gently.

"I still can't believe we made this." He says, his voice heavy. Your stomach has a nice round shape to it now, and you can feel the baby moving, and once again the baby only moves for the sound of Luke's voice. "It's the size of one of Dany's dragon eggs." He continues.

"Is that so?" You ask, reaching out to place your hand over his own. He nods, trailing his hand up your naked body, skimming over your breasts to cup your cheek with his hand. He leans down to kiss you, pulling your body over his own and entering you again. You moan as he makes love to you again for the third time that night.

"You're insatiable." you say breathlessly.

"It's been seven weeks." He explains, pulling you down to kiss you. "And I love you."

* * *

When you awake the next morning he's no longer in bed with you but you can hear him down the hall. You slide out of bed slipping his discarded t-shirt over your body and padding barefoot to the noise. You find him in the nursery, with the crib that you purchased in pieces around him. You walk into the room and sit on the chair that he's already assembled.

"Good Morning." You say, reaching out to take a sip of the coffee he has in the mug.

"Morning, love." He says, smiling broadly at you. "I didn't want to wake you." You smile back at him, clutching the coffee in your hands.

"You didn't." You say, shaking your head. "I had to pee." You shrug your shoulder. "Can I help?" You ask. He shakes his head.

"No, you're already doing all of the hard work." He says, gesturing to your stomach.

"So, did you want to find out the sex of the baby?" You ask him as he continues putting the crib together. It's actually starting to look like the picture now, and you think he did a great job picking the dark wood for the gray bedroom. He turns to look at you, reaching out for the cup of coffee and you hand it to him.

"Only if you want to." He says, taking a sip. "I know we waited with Amalia, but…"You stiffen at her name, but smile softly at him. He continues. "I was thinking about putting a picture of her up in here, so that she can watch over her younger sibling." He says, casting his eyes downward. You nod.

"That sounds like a lovely idea." You say after a few moments of silence. "And I already know what we're having, when you were out the technician let it slip on accident." You say in explanation. "I can tell you if you want to know." You stand and move to the closet, you've already organized the clothes according to size, and color. You pull out a pink dress, the first ever item you bought for Amalia.

"I'd like to have this framed alongside her picture." He nods, coming to stand behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding your stomach on either side. He kisses your neck, and looks into the closet.

"You've been busy." He says changing the subject, reaching out to grab the dress and place it on the top of the dresser. "I'll buy a frame tonight." He says while kissing you on the cheek. He gives you a gentle squeeze as you place your hands over his.

You open your mouth, turning your head to the side and placing a kiss to his jaw.

"It's a boy."


	14. Chapter 14

"Alexander," he says, toweling his hair as he gets out of the shower, he's completely naked and you can't stop yourself from staring at him. That. You think to yourself. That right there is the reason I'm sitting here talking about what to name our child. That perfect appendage. You stop yourself before you get carried away and you both end up back in bed. Currently, you're sitting on the closed toilet seat with a book propped up against your stomach. You're wondering what he is thinking since you can't see his eyes. You hope he likes the suggestion since you've poured over these stupid baby name blogs for hours. You only switched to the book when you realized the only names you were being given were those from fandoms, and while you think that's a great idea, something tells you his very Catholic family will not take it well if you name your child Anakin.

"Alexander?" He repeats, turning to look at you and toweling off his upper body, your eyes are still staring at his physique. He chuckles before turning to face the sink and shields himself from your perverted gaze, you don't realize it but you've audibly whined, but when your eyes lock onto the curve of his backside and you relax. You ask yourself for the millionth time how it is that you managed to end up with this perfect specimen of a man. You're sure that he's been talking to you, but you haven't heard a single word and so you turn your attention back to his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He's looking at you and smirking with an eyebrow cocked.

"Yes, do you like it?" You ask. He's grabbed a tooth brush and started scrubbing his teeth vigorously, and when he's done he turns to look at you. He's letting you stare at him again but only for a few fleeting seconds before he takes the towel and wraps it around his waist, you groan. He's moving closer to you and once he is standing in front of you where he crouches down and places a kiss to your rounded belly.

"Get undressed." He says standing, and you look at him confused. "You need to shower, and I'm going to wash your hair, and other places…" he says. There's a ripple of excitement that flows through your body. Goosebumps that have cropped up on your skin as you feel the air leave the room. You stare at him open mouthed and there's an instant moisture between your trembling legs. Don't make me shower. You think. Just take me here on the damn floor. You control your breathing, following him as he takes a step back from you.

"But the name…" he places his lips upon your own to silence you. Your entire body is trembling now, not just your legs, and you ask yourself exactly how it is that you're going to be able to get through the rest of your life with this man. How is it that after almost two years of an active relationship and four years of a friendship he still makes you feel this way? How is it that he chose me?

"The name can wait, we still have three months until he's born." He says, turning the water on and testing it with his forearm before he ushers you inside. He reaches around to wet your hair before grabbing some of your favorite shampoo and lathering up your strands. "Have I told you lately that I love your body?" He continues, letting the suds from the shampoo travel down your back. You can feel his gaze on you and it makes you blush harder than you did the first time he saw you naked. The suds tickle your spine and at this moment you don't know if you can feel them or his fingertips gliding down your skin. You decide that either way it's sensual and you relax.

"Luke," you exclaim as his hand slides over your bottom. "I want to discuss our child's name." He reaches around to rub his hands over your swollen stomach. He's silent for a while and his hands are roaming your body before he speaks again, his hands resting on your bump. "He's the size of a Philly cheesesteak." you laugh.

"Where are you coming up with this stuff?" You turn around to look at him, stepping further into the shower and pulling him under the stream of water with you. The water is cascading over the both of you now, soft droplets kissing your skin, drenching the towel as it slips off of his waist and pools at the bottom of the shower. You look at his caramel skin in contrast to your own and wonder what your son is going to look like.

"Website." He says, pinning you against the shower wall. The shock of the cold wall against your back causes you to gasp and arch your back pushing your breasts into his chest. He hisses at the contact of your hardened nipples on his bare skin and dips his head into the crook of your neck, biting at the skin there. You're roaming your hands all over his body and you moan loudly when your hand comes in contact with his hardened member. You give it a gentle squeeze and giggle when he curses into your neck as you continue with the gesture.

"So…Alexander." You say before he covers your mouth with his hand silencing you. His fingers are trailing down your body. He's taking control of the situation now. You realize you love it when he gets that serious look on his face and you wonder briefly if this is the look he gets when he's chasing down an UnSub, but that thought leaves you as he brushes his hand against your breasts on his way down from your mouth. He moves back to look into your eyes as he gently lifts you up off the floor, keeping your body pinned to the shower wall.

"Not right now Penelope." He says to you, before his spreads your legs and enters you. "Not right now."

It's too hot in here. You think to yourself.

You're sitting down to eat dinner with Luke and his family, and you're beginning to wonder what made you think it was a good idea to wear a sweater dress. It's December and tomorrow would have made Amalia's second Christmas, had she survived, but she didn't you remind yourself. It's not getting any easier no matter what everybody has been telling you, and in a few short months you'll be holding your new child, in your new home, with memories of the five minutes you allowed yourself to have with Amalia before you screamed at anyone who would listen to take her from you. You remember your voice trembling, your body trembling, your mind completely shattering as you held your little girl. You remember the tears that were pouring down your face. But most of all you remember Luke, and how he was standing completely still and looking out the window in blood soaked clothes with one hand on his hip and the other covering his face as he silently cried into the night. You remember cursing at the nurse who took a picture of you sobbing over her, and you wonder where that picture had gone off to. Could I even look at it now? Would it still hurt? You know for a fact that Luke still has pictures of her on his phone, not that you ever checked, but you did find him crying in her nursery while looking at them. You wanted to comfort him at that time but instead chose to walk away and crawl back into your bed, staring off into space.

There was nothing more that you could do for either of them. You had already failed.

You bring yourself back to the present, giving your head a small shake and you realize that you've been staring at Luke's nose and he's smiling coyly at you, with his hand touching your bare skin under the table. You've moved his hand from your thigh several times, but that doesn't stop him from trying. You're glaring at him but he's persistent in keeping his hand firmly on your thigh, for fear that you will break down, for fear that you will run away, maybe. You're not entirely sure. But he's giving you a gentle squeeze every now and then, and just when you start to relax he begins to draw lazy circles on the inside of your thigh. He's feeling the bumps he left earlier from his beard, because for the life of you, you can't figure out why his favorite place in the world to be is between your legs. You shiver at the memory of his tongue working his way over your body, those thick lips leaving kisses all over your skin. Of him looking up at you and telling you in his pleasure filled voice "You taste divine."

"Have you decided on a name yet?" You hear his mother ask, snapping yourself out of the memory of several hours earlier. You look at her and shake your head, smiling sadly. You're playing with the food on your plate, and you realize that she's expecting you to say something so you look up at her.

"Your son is being stubborn, Lucia." You say after swallowing a bite of food. "He refuses to talk about naming our child, instead he keeps comparing him to sandwiches." She turns to look at Luke, glaring at him. He's chuckling lifting his glass of wine to his mouth, taking a sip and licking his lips when he's done. He looks over at you, taking one arm and wrapping it around the back of your chair, slouching down a bit. He's waiting for something and it doesn't take long for his mother to deliver.

"If you don't name my grandson this evening, Lucas, I will disown you." He laughs before turning to his mother holding his hand over his heart. You're completely ready for the theatrics.

"Mami, you'd disown me? Your baby?" He asks her sounding wounded. His eyes have taken on a darker shade of brown and he's pulled his lips into a frown. His hand is trembling slightly and he's strumming his other fingers on your right arm. You're smiling, completely amused by his antics, and you wonder if this is how he will get you to undress for him later tonight.

"Si, mi hijo, because in three months I'll have a new baby boy." She says, taking a bite of her rice. "And you will just be my son." He looks wounded. Serves him right.

You laugh lightly, lifting your glass of water to your lips. You cast your eyes downward, remembering that she wasn't happy about Amalia. She wasn't happy that her "baby boy", as she called him, was going to spend his life caring for another man's child. No matter how noble it was. But now, now she was all tears and happiness and couldn't contain her excitement at being a fucking grandmother to your child. But you decide to not voice your opinions on the matter because it would only cause further problems. Amalia is gone, and Lucia was coming around to the thought of her by the time of her death. That's what you choose to focus on, remembering Amalia and your new baby. You press a hand to your stomach, resting it there for the duration of the meal. Even now knowing that you were growing a child both terrifies and calms you.

"I have something in mind," he says "but I want to meet him first," Luke says, removing his arm from your shoulders and picks up your hand instead, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He releases you and turns back to his dinner. "Penelope likes the name Alexander." He says. This sends Lucia into a frenzy, speaking Spanish causing her husband to laugh loudly.

While the other members of the table are conversing, Alma turns to look at you from the next seat, reaching out to touch her hand to your own.

"The pain of losing her won't ever go away, but I can promise you that you will always have a family here." She whispers and you look up at her with tear filled eyes.

"Thank you." You say to her. It's been a while since you've had an actual family, one that wasn't assigned to the same department as you at work. You look around the table, seeing the smiling faces of your future in-laws and their spouses and their children. You realize that there is more love around this table than you have felt in years, and you let it consume you. You let the warmth of the night wash over you and you realize that it's not too hot in here. It's just warm enough to help you to heal.

You're nervously tapping your fingers against the steering wheel of the red Jeep. His vehicle is the only one that will house your rather large stomach anymore so you've taken it over. You've been sitting in this car, in this parking lot, for over an hour now. The same routine that you've been doing for the past month. There are two months until your son was born, your unnamed son you remind yourself, and you can't bring him into this world with this hatred in your heart. Unnamed, but not unloved, and you wonder when the hurt of losing Amalia had dulled down and was replaced by immense love for your son. You thought that losing her was going to consume you for every single waking second, and while her memory is still there in the back of your mind, you've come to terms with the fact that you have another life that you are responsible for now. You have a life to take care of, a life to nurture, a life you created…

Today is the day. You say to yourself as you unbuckle the belt and step out of the car. It's January 2nd, and there is a fresh coating of snow layering the ground and you're careful of your steps in case the parking lot is icy. You pull your pea coat tighter around your body, and you shield your bump from the world, as you race to the door. You've pulled out your ID and handed it over to the officer on duty. She looks up at you surprised, and you wonder if she knows his story, your story. Does she know that the man you're here to see brutally raped and beat you and killed your daughter? Does this woman know that you were cut open because you were in distress? Does this woman know that the doctors wanted you to give birth to your daughter naturally, and that fact is what caused your heart to race?

Does she know?

Do they all know?

"I'm here to see Ryan Lockwood." You manage to say, though the words hurt you coming out. He killed Amalia. You remind yourself. He killed Amalia. They show you to the visitation center and you make yourself comfortable with your back to a wall, that way you can see exactly what is going on around you. You also chose to sit here to make sure that your face is the first one he sees when he enters the room. You're not disappointed when he steps into the room and freezes. He eventually makes his way over to you, sliding into the chair with his head down. He's let his blonde hair grow out and from the way it hangs in his face, he hasn't washed it in days. You open your jacket and calmly lay your hands on your stomach. You look down at his hands noticing that they used to be neat and clipped and there is a layer of dirt crusted under the nails now. His skin looks rough and dry, and there's a slight bruise on his wrist. You wonder what's happening to him in this prison, but you decide that no matter what he is getting, he deserves worse. You take a deep breath.

"Hello, Ryan." You say to him, remaining perfectly still. You even out your breathing knowing that you have to stay calm for this visit. You can't show him any fear, you won't show him any fear. It's what he gets off on. You know this now.

"Hello, Penny." He says and you flinch slightly. The last person to call you Penny was your father, and nobody since then. He knows that you hate it, and that's why he chose to call you that, time after time after time. You choose to let it go. "Whose knocked you up?" He asks. His head is tilted and he looks amused at your stomach. You instinctively cover your child with your arms, much like you did all those months ago, but that didn't save her then. You shake your head.

"You don't get to ask me questions." You say. "I'm here to say something to you." You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against his glare.

"You took my daughter from me." You begin. "You took her without a second thought because you couldn't keep your hands off of me. You couldn't keep yourself from beating me. You gave her to me nonconsensually but I loved her with every fiber of my being. You raped her into me, and then you beat her out of me. That is what you did. That is what you have to live with." You take another breath. "But I'm still living and breathing, and that was the point wasn't it? You wanted to kill me, not her. But you got it wrong. You got it so wrong, you wanted her to be motherless like you were, a motherless son of a bitch, but instead, you ripped my child from me. You ripped her from a loving home, loving parents, you did that." You begin to reach up to wipe a tear from your face, but you decide against it at the last moment. "I came here because I refuse to let my child be born into this world where I hate you. My child deserves a life where my heart isn't heavy and filled with a darkness because of a mistake. My child is going to flourish and my child will always remember his sister." You stand.

"I'll never forgive you, Ryan." You continue, raising your voice. "You're a child killer." You begin to walk away from him before you turn back to him. "We all know what happens to people who hurt children in prison. If you don't stop this appeal I'll make sure that my fiancé tells all of his old colleagues what you did and the word will spread like wildfire to your fellow inmates." He laughs and reaches out to grab your arm, you stiffen as you hear the guards shouting about there being no touching, but he clings to you. You flash back to all the times he's touched you before and you yank your hand out of his grip using it to swipe your hand across his stubbled cheek.

"Don't ever fucking touch me again." You hiss at him. "You don't ever get to fucking touch me again."

"Tell Luke I'm waiting for his next visit. I've grown used to them."

"Penelope?" You hear, and you freeze looking up into the eyes of your fiancé. "What are you doing here?" He asks, rushing over to you and placing a hand on your stomach. He's running his hands over your face and he's pulled your arm to him pushing up your sleeve to examine the harsh imprint from Ryan's hand. He looks into your eyes, the hurt flashing through them at failing to be there to save you once again. But you're not a damsel in distress, you don't need any fucking saving.

"I could ask you the same thing."


	15. Chapter 15

You're sitting on the couch when he walks through the door a few hours later. You still have your coat on and your purse is sitting on the floor near your feet. You have a bottle of water in your hands and you're staring straight ahead, looking off into nothingness. You don't hear him come into the house and you're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing considering who you just went to visit. He doesn't say anything to you at first, instead, takes off his jacket and shoes and makes his way over to the couch to sit beside you. He takes the bottle of water out of your hands, placing it on the table in front of you before he reaches out to hold your hand. You grip his hands in your own, afraid that if you let go, your world will shatter around you.

"Are you okay?" He asks you after five minutes, yes, you counted. He's trying to move his hand out of your own, but you won't let it go. You've managed to grasp some semblance of control over your emotions in the past few hours, and the world has stopped spinning around you, and everything is coming back into focus now…but if he lets go of you. All bets would be off. You're not sure that you could handle the absence of him right now. And so you grip his hand tighter in your own, your knuckles going white with the force.

"I'm alright." You whisper back to him, your eyes are still unmoving. He knows that you're lying, you know that you're lying, but the words slip between your lips as smoothly as your old favorite lipstick slides across your lips. There are tears in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall onto your cheeks. I paid $25 for this mascara, tears will not happen here, you think to yourself as your bottom lip trembles from the pressure build up in your eyes. Ryan is not going to break you any longer, you decide. Your throat begins to burn from the unshed tears, causing you to gasp and clear your throat with a watery cough. "How long, Luke?" You ask. And he chuckles, letting his other hand run through his hands. He chuckles when he's nervous, but it's never bothered you before now. You notice that his fingers are trembling around your hand, and you wonder if he's scared about your reaction. Your eyes are still facing forward, not moving, not blinking, not seeing. You wonder if closing them will be better for you in the long run.

"Ever since you told me about the baby." He says to you, and you nod. You still don't turn your head to look at him, and you find yourself questioning all of the times he was gone, is that where he went? When he was late to the birthing class, was he visiting Ryan? When he canceled your lunch date a few weeks ago, was he with Ryan? When he told you he was out shopping, was he with Ryan? The man who beat you. The man who killed your child. You remember back to the day you first met Luke, the day you woke with the thoughts of how heartbreaking and devastating love was. How you never questioned his decisions before, but now you do. There was a level of trust that you both shattered by not telling the other about these visitations. At least I only visited once.

"How many times?" You ask him, and you find yourself wondering if this was the same conversation Savannah had with Derek. You chuckle darkly at the parallels. The only difference here is that he was seeing the man who wounded you so deeply that you thought you would never survive it. But I did. You remind yourself. I made it through the pain of losing Amalia. I suffered through the bouts of tears, the vomiting, the way my body changed. The milk that came in but there was no baby to feed it to. I am a survivor. You tell yourself, chanting the words over and over in your mind. You blink slowly, causing a tear to fall onto your cheek, but your vision has cleared.

"Once a month." He says and you stiffen. Once a month. You told him about the baby when you were two months in, on the day the test turned up positive, and you wonder why he never told you. He's been going to see him for six months. Six fucking months without a word. You wonder how long he would have kept this from you. Would he have told you when the baby was born, when he was ten when he graduated high school when he went to college? You shake your head clearing the thoughts that have been jumbled there. It's not doing you any good to dwell in this darkness, and so you use an extraction technique that Rebecca taught you. You stare off at the brightest color that you could find in the room and focus on a happy thought. Just a single happy thought and you let it replay.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You ask, still gripping his hand. You can feel him sagging in the seat near you. He lets out a shaky breath but remains silent for a few more minutes, in which your mind is racing all over the would he be visiting with Ryan in the first place? What did he gain by going there? How could he control himself when he laid eyes on him because you barely made it through the short visit you had with him. Ever since Ryan, there is a darkness in your heart that is perfectly explainable, but you wanted to act on it so badly that you shook with rage as you left the prison. You don't think you've ever felt that way before. It was all darkness after Amalia, you didn't realize that there was a deep seated rage under the layers of depression.

"I don't know, Penelope." He begins, pulling you into his side. "I didn't want to hurt you with the knowledge that I was visiting him, but I had to know why he did it. All day long we look at pictures of horrible things, things you would never think could happen to you. But then I come home and find our house a wreck and you were lying there n the shower. I thought you were dead, Penelope. I really thought I had lost both of you. And then I did. I lost both of you for so long, you weren't the same. And sometimes you're not the same at all. " He continues, turning to look at you, kissing the top of your head. He reaches around you to try and take your jacket off of you. You lean forward and allow him to slide the red jacket from your arms. He gently pushes you back onto the couch and reaches down to pull your boots from your feet. "I love you, Penelope. You're the end of the line for me and I didn't protect you the way I should have. That's my fault."

"I love you too." You reply, turning to place your feet in his lap propping your head up on the arm of the couch. "Did you ever find out why he did it?" You ask out of curiosity, not really sure that you want to know the answer. You look up at him, finally taking in the fear that is etched into his face. He is silent as he grips your left foot in his hand, his thumbs massaging the soles. You sigh, pulling up your shirt and reaching out for the lotion that you keep on the end table. Pouring some into your palms you wonder what color your son will love the most, and as you work the lotion into your skin, you hope he's like you and has a different favorite color each day of the week. Your fingers find the old stretch marks, the ones from when you were bigger, they're the most faded, white, healed. The marks from your pregnancy with Amalia are not smooth like the others, they are raised and pink and sometimes you feel a pain coming from them. Finally, your eyes look down to the marks that this pregnancy has gifted you, trailing your fingertips along the harsh red lines. You smile down, the marks that used to make you disgusted, now make you feel differently. You're not sure how different they make you feel, but it's changed.

"No." He says shaking his head and moving onto your right foot. You moan loudly slouching down lower into the couch, covering your eyes with your forearm, and growl deeply in your throat. "He spent the time taunting me. Telling me how you felt under him in our bed. Telling me the way you cried out for me. He's sick Penelope." He continues his voice shaking from unshed tears. "He told me how much fun he had. But he never once told me how he did it." He finally whispers, moving his hands up your calf. "Why did you go today?" He asks.

"I went there to threaten him." You say simply. "I told him that I would never forgive him for killing our daughter, for hurting me. After that, I loudly announced who he was and what he did to Amalia. And then I told him if he continued his appeal that I would get you to make his life inside very uncomfortable. I was leaving when you showed up." He chuckles, continuing to rub your calves, dragging his fingers along the flesh. You smile at the memory of a few days ago when he sat you on the chair in the bathroom and shaved your legs so delicately. You remember how it felt as he ran the razor up your legs, trailing his fingers behind it to ensure that the skin was smooth to the touch. Shivering, you pull yourself back to the present, goose bumps erupting onto your skin from the memory.

"I already make his life a living hell. He's afraid to shower, to eat, to leave his cell for anything besides visitation, and even then sometimes he doesn't come." Luke says, looking you in the eye as you continue to rub the cocoa butter onto your stomach, there will always be stretch marks on your body, from when you were bigger and then slimmed down, to your first pregnancy with Amalia, and now with your little boy. You don't know why you bother, but this is the time your child bonds with you, as he feels your hands rubbing soothing circles over his temporary home. He likes to follow your palms kicking you along the way. Sometimes when you press too hard he gives you a sharp jab in the ribs. You choose to change the subject, instead concentrating on rubbing the lotion in.

"Luke, does my stomach look bigger this time around?" you ask, sizing your stomach up. You tilt your head to the side, wondering why you never thought to measure your stomach during either pregnancy, but you figure that must have had to do with the size you used to be. You don't like to think about how unhappy you were at that size. He looks at you seriously and smiles.

"You're beautiful." He says, leaning down to press a kiss to your stomach, just below your belly button. He laughs jumping back. "Little devil just kicked me."

You're in your office drinking a cup of tea when you hear a knock on your door and you turn quickly in your chair in order to come face to face with Rossi. He smiles at you, gesturing to your couch, silently asking your permission to enter and sit down. When you nod your head and take a sip of your tea, he enters, closing the door behind him softly and gets comfortable on your couch. You wonder if this is how you look to Rebecca when you go in for your sessions. There's a raw emotion on Rossi's face that you think you can place but you're not entirely sure and so you sit quietly, not sure of the words to say as you watch him gather his thoughts. When he opens his mouth to speak you breathe easier. You're not sure how Rebecca does this for a living, just the thought of having to live with other people's problems would have given you a complex or two.

"Kitten, I wanted you to know how strong I think you are." He says, pulling out a coin and flipping it between his fingers. "I know that you're getting ready to bring a beautiful baby boy into this world. I know how hard it was for you to lose Amalia, which I still think is a beautiful name. I wanted you to know that it gets easier." He says, looking up from the coin to you. "Caroline and I lost a child in the early days of our marriage, and it tore us apart." He says letting out a shaky breath. "I'm glad that you and Luke didn't let this tear you apart."

"I'm so sorry." You say shakily, letting out a breath. You start to reach out to touch him but think better of it when you see the way his body stiffens at the sudden movement. "What was your child's name?" You ask softly, taking a sip of your cooling tea. His eyes snap up to meet your own and you can see the line of unshed tears glistening in the light from your computer monitors. You're sure that his eyes mirror your own, both tinged with sadness and loss. He opens his mouth to speak several times, reaching up to wipe roughly at his eyes.

"James." He whispers. "James David Rossi. Born April 26, 1979." You disregard his posture this time as you move over to the couch and grip his hands in your own. "We knew about the heart defect, and we knew that it may kill him, but we didn't prepare for it." He continues.

"Amalia was so small, and she looked everything like Ryan that it hurt me to look at her. I only held her for about five minutes." You say, still gripping Rossi's hands in your own. "I couldn't bear to look at her, or hold her, or touch her." You continue. "I loved her, yes. But I hated looking at her." You say before you blink letting the tears travel down your face. You can feel your mascara trailing black lines down your face as you sob uncontrollably near your coworker on the couch in your office. Rossi leans over, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into his chest. He's whispering to you telling you that it's okay, but you continue to cry.

It's not okay, you tell yourself, it's never going to be ok.

"I never got to hold James." He says, kissing the top of your head. "I was out on a case." And for some reason that causes you to cry harder. You've just admitted to yourself that you hated looking at your daughter on the day that she was born. This is something that has been sitting at the bottom of your heart for over a year, and you wonder how it is that these tears that you are currently crying are tears of relief, not sadness. You realize that for all this time the only thing that has been holding you back from healing is yourself. And you wonder if you can now fully move on and enjoy the birth of your son.

You're not a bad person, you tell yourself mimicking Rebecca's words from your latest session, you're not a bad person. Several minutes later your eyes are blinking rapidly and Rossi is still holding you when you begin to feel the pains that you can only equate to childbirth. Your mind immediately rushes back to your last delivery as you feel a slight trickle of a fluid trail down your legs. You wonder if you can sit here silently until Luke comes in but Rossi has noticed your change in breathing and is pulling you off of his chest to look at you.

"Are you okay, Kitten?" He asks, his eyes searching your face before looking down to his rumpled shirt. You nod your head at him, closing your eyes and breathing through the pain like your class taught you to.

"Yes." You breathe out through gritted teeth. "I'm just in labor." You laugh at the sight of his eyes going wide, as he jumps up from the couch, yelling in Italian. You shake your head. "You and Luke, constantly speaking languages I don't understand."

"Yes, Luke, he should be here for this. This is his fault after all." He says, rushing out of your office, leaving you alone on the couch.

"Oh sure, leave the heavily pregnant lady alone, in labor." You say to yourself before you climb off of the couch, grabbing your purse and waddling your way to the elevator door. You're already standing by the Jeep when Luke and the team come running downstairs calling your name.

"What do you mean?" You hear him ask the doctor as you look down at the baby in your arms. He has a tuft of dark colored hair, with ten fingers and ten toes. He's got his father's dimples already and he's sleeping soundly with his fist in his mouth. You've spent the last ten minutes staring down at him and wondering again if he was ever going to get a name. You're listening to the conversation on the other side of the door while staring at your son. There's a dull ache on your entire body and you're thinking that if you ever give birth again, you'd get the epidural. Hell, you'd have gotten the epidural this time around if you had been given the full scope of the situation. You smile, lifting your son to your face and placing a kiss on the top of his head, inhaling his scent as you do so.

"Mr. Alvez, everything went well, there was just something that wasn't seen during the scans over the last few months." The doctor continued, and you can hear the tired edge to his voice. Your labor was not easy by any means, with a team of FBI profilers in and out of the room and a frantic father trying to make sure that you and his son were okay at every turn in the process. Not to mention you progressed quickly and by the time you had gotten to the hospital it was only five minutes until you were told to start pushing. You would laugh at the situation but at this moment the only thing you could focus on was the gentle breathing of your son in your arms. His dark eyelashes lay softly against his rosy cheeks, splayed out over the expanse of lightly caramel skin. His cheeks have small bumps on them, but you were told that that was normal for newborns. He was born with a full head of dark hair and you think to yourself that that must be the explanation for the constant heartburn you've encountered throughout the months.

"How could you miss this?" Luke continues. "This is a big thing to miss!" He's saying and while you're staring at your son you imagine him pacing back and forth in front of the doctor with one hand on his hip and the other working through his hair, but that's not likely to happen often now. You're still staring down at your son as he is gripping your index finger in your hand. He's emitting small snores every once in a while and you're sure that you haven't blinked or taken your eyes off of your son since he was placed into your arms. You sigh, leaning down to pepper a soft kiss on his red lips, and chuckle when he lets out a small whine at the disturbance from his sleep. You're already like your father. You think to yourself as you continue to look at your son.

"Twins often hide behind each other. She's much smaller than her brother, it's a miracle she survived at all." The doctor said, but your eyes are still on your son's face. He's still sleeping peacefully and he's so innocent. He knows nothing of the world, not your past transgressions, or his father's. He knows nothing of the sister he will never get to meet. He knows nothing of serial killers, rapists, child abductors. He's trusting you to keep him safe from the horrors of the world. You vow to do that. You're not going to let this child come to any harm while you're still breathing.

"When can we take her home?" He asks, and you can hear him sigh heavily. You're still sore all over and you remember that Luke had calmed down enough to see your son exit your body. He was there for the child's first cries into this world and it's a wonder Luke didn't cry himself when the nurse called the doctor's attention to another head making its way out of your birth canal. You wanted to die when she told you that you had to go through this again, but you persisted, carrying on through the pain with Luke's hand wrapped around your own. Your eyes were focused solely on your son being tended to across the room, your thoughts a mile away. It wasn't like this with Amalia, she was ripped from your body, thankfully. You never had to deal with this when you were pregnant with her. You let your mind carry you back to the present, concentrating on breathing and bringing your daughter into the world. A daughter that you didn't know existed. How could I have not known? You ask yourself especially when you think back on all the times you marveled at the size of your stomach. You should have known.

"She's significantly smaller than her brother, Mr. Alvez, and she's having trouble breathing on her own. She's also on a feeding tube, but we're hoping that she will be ready to go home in the next three weeks." You close your eyes, still holding your son to your chest, as he comes back into the room. He approaches you and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you." He whispers, running his fingers over his son's head. "You did great, Flower." He continues. You're tired, you suddenly realize, but you refuse to go to sleep until your children have names.

Children.

A boy and a girl.

Two girls.

One living.

One dead.

You shake your head, clearing the thoughts. "So…" you say handing your son off to Luke. "Alexander." He laughs, cradling the boy's head and looking down at his child. You're looking at his face, the love that is shining through his eyes as he looks between you and your son.

"No." He says. Shaking his head and wiping a tear from his face. "I've been thinking about their names for a long time, and you've already put little pink stars near his. Mateo."

"Mateo?" You ask and he smiles, nodding at you.

"Mateo Leonardo Alvez, after your father." He says, placing a kiss to the top of Mateo's head.

"And for our daughter?" You ask, your voice cracking at the word. Saying that phrase hurts you to your very core, but you spit it out anyway. For some reason, it pains you to talk about the daughter you didn't know you were bringing into the world. Just knowing that you had a daughter, in this hospital, living and breathing, scares you more than you would care to admit. He leans over to kiss you, holding your head to his chest. He kisses you on your forehead again, letting out a breath against you. The rush of air against your skin soothes you. Mateo's feet kick you in the head gently and you let out a shaky breath. You use the same breathing technique that he taught you. In through the mouth. Hold one, two, three. Out through the mouth.

"It's okay, Flower." He says to you. "I was thinking Emiliana." He continues after a breath. "Emiliana Joy Alvez, for your mother."

You can't stop the tears that flow now, but you silently blame the hormones. He wanted to name your children after your parents. And again you wonder what it was that made you special enough to be blessed with this man. You nod your head, wiping at your eyes. You're looking at him, tears running down your face, as you stare openly at your fiancé holding the son you share. You can't place this feeling that is currently gripping your heart, but as you breathe it gets harder and harder to focus on the feeling. It's not until days later that you realize that it's love. You're so filled with love for your boys, and your daughter who is sleeping down the hall.

"Mateo and Emiliana." You say opening your arms for him to place your son back in them. Your eyes immediately tear away from Luke's face and down to Mateo's. You're not blinking again, eyes unmoving, but all seeing.

"Hello, baby, you finally have a name." You whisper, placing another kiss on his cheeks. "And how is Emiliana?" You ask. This is the first time you've asked about her you realize, but it's not because you're not curious. You were just so busy looking at your son, marveling at the sheer fact that you brought a healthy, living, breathing baby into this world.

"She's good, they have her hooked up to a feeding tube since she's having a hard time swallowing on her own. She's breathing on her own, so that's good. I'm going to see if they can bring her in here." He says, leaning over to kiss you and Mateo. You nod your head, never taking your eyes off of Mateo as Luke leaves the room.

"Mateo…" you say as he opens his eyes, his perfect little hand reaching out for your face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a deleted scene on my Tumblr of the family after the baby is born. My username is 'itsdawnashlie'


	16. Chapter 16

Most mothers would have raced towards the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit by now, but not you Penelope Garcia, for today you are a coward, hiding out in your hospital room down the hall from the daughter you wanted so badly to meet. But you haven't gathered up the courage to do so, and by the time she is twenty-four hours old, you still haven't laid eyes on her face, which from what the nurses, doctors, family members, and your fiance tell you is so beautiful it will bring you to tears. You want to ask Luke if she looks like Amalia, but instead, you hold your son, nursing him with your eyes closed and your head turned in the opposite direction of Luke.

Most mothers would have demanded that they be moved to a room closer to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unity so that they could be closer to their daughter, but you draw the curtains around your bed and ask anyone who enters the room to close the door behind them. You're not most mothers, you surmise because most mothers are good. Most mothers care, most mothers love, most mothers would want to meet their daughter.

You find yourself awake in the middle of the night with your son to your breast. Luke is sleeping on the cot, his breathing shallow and he is snoring lightly into the dark room. Staring straight ahead with unmoving eyes, you wonder what she looks like. Does she have your hair or Luke's? Are her eyes blue, or did they come out dark like yours? Is her skin the same caramel color as her brother? Do her lips pucker like a heart to match the roundness of her face? Who is she?

You haven't asked anyone about her instead, tuning out when they began to talk about her.

Four pounds and twelve ounces. Sixteen inches long.

You grew an extra four pound and twelve ounces, you grew an extra sixteen inches, you grew an extra person entirely without knowing or suspecting a thing, and you wonder if that is what your issue is. You grew an extra person, a girl, a daughter. You grew...but you haven't grown have you? In some ways you have, the fact that you are sitting here nursing your son, and not downing shots at a local bar with members of your team. Everybody grows in the years following a tragedy, but today, today you are still a scared little girl who is afraid to meet the daughter she gave life to.

You pry your son's lips from around your breast and lift him to your shoulder, tapping lightly on his back to coax a burp from him, before you settle him back into the cradle located at your side. You don't realize that Luke's snoring has stopped and your eyes connect with his over your son and he smiles.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers, stretching with a yawn. Grabbing a tissue from the bedside table you wipe gently at the beading colostrum on your left nipple before covering the swollen bud with your bra and nightgown before looking back up at Luke. You sigh into the night, wondering exactly what it is that he sees in you. You haven't showered in days, you're bleeding so heavily that you're back and forth to the bathroom almost every hour, and your stitches are itching so badly that not even the ice pad is helping to alleviate the uncomfortable burn.

"How is she?" you ask, the first real question you've asked about her in the last twenty-four hours, and you cast your eyes onto your son. You begin to make your way to the bathroom, wincing as you walk slowly and before you realize it Luke is at your side, helping you to the bathroom and pulling the hideous cotton underwear down your legs. You hiss at him, trying to push him away before he can see the mess that you are sure is waiting in your panties, but he chuckles, standing and helping you ease onto the toilet seat.

"I literally watched two children exit your body. I'm not worried about blood," he says to you. "And besides, I see blood on almost a daily basis." You look up at him as you use the facilities, wondering exactly when in your relationship you both had become comfortable enough to be in this intimate of a position. You shake your head, remembering that this man loved to be between your legs any time that he could. You remember the feeling of his beard on your inner thighs and you realize that you love that feeling.

"She's fine," he says to you as you tend to yourself and he reaches into the shower to turn on the spray of water. He tests it with his elbow, and you wonder if his mother used to do that for him when he was a child. "She's out of the incubator," he says without turning around to look at you. "Are you ever going to meet her?" he asks, and you can see his hands running through his hair. You nod your head before you realize that he can't see you.

"Of course I'm going to, Luke." you harshly whisper into the bathroom, suddenly offended at the question. "I'm her mother." He nods, reaching to help you off of the toilet before helping to slip the nightgown off of your body. You wrap your arms around your flattening stomach, shielding his view of the excess skin that you're suddenly very ashamed of. There's dry blood on your thighs and you cringe, disgusted with yourself for not showering sooner than this. You shake his hands off of your body before you step into the warm stream of water, closing your eyes as the droplets cascade down your spine, and you sigh heavily, letting tears fall down your face.

"She looks just like you." he says and you freeze.

"Like me?" you ask him, opening your eyes under the rivulets of water. You're soaping your body with the provided body wash when he chuckles and nods, preparing a towel for you eventual exit from the shower. "Not like Amalia?"

"Is that what you're afraid of?" he whispers and you're not sure if you were supposed to hear that question or not, but you nod answering it all the same.

"I was afraid she would look exactly like her sister," you whisper into the water, closing your eyes and placing your face under the stream. You wonder if anyone has ever drowned in a shower before of their own accord, and you wonder how easy it would be to just stop. Stop living. Stop caring. Stop loving. You don't think it would be hard, but in the same thought, you decide that you don't want to try. And so you shut off the water and exit the shower, allowing Luke to towel dry your body, and help you slide fresh clothing onto your frame. His ARMY t-shirt hasn't fit in months and it's a welcome sight as it slides over your shoulders, his fingers trailing lines of fire down your sides, as he positions the shirt. He places a kiss on the back of your neck before gathering your damp hair in his hands, squeezing the excess water into the sink as you prepared a toothbrush with the paste.

"You're going to be good for her." you say after you scrub your teeth vigorously watching him plait your hair in the mirror.

"You will be too," he replies, wrapping his arms around your waist, palms spread wide against your stomach. "Just trust yourself," he whispers, placing a kiss on your neck before helping you back to your bed. You chuckle darkly, that's easier said than done, you think. You haven't trusted yourself since the day you chose Ryan over Luke. You doubt you'll ever fully trust yourself again.

* * *

Emiliana has been alive for seventy-eight hours before you finally decide that it was time to gather up your courage and meet her. You pretend that you don't see the constant looks from the others around you when they ask you what she looks like, and you can't give them an answer. The walk to the NICU wasn't that long but your heart has been beating so hard against your rib cage. You wonder for a moment if you can get out of this by way of a heart attack because you're sure that you're having one at this very moment.

You stop in the hallway to catch your breath which is coming in sporadic gasps and you think back to the breathing technique that Luke taught you all those years ago. You wonder if you can go through with this, but you press forward because it's time. You can't stand the way Luke has been looking at you the past two days, fear laced in his honey orbs as you deny again and again the invitation to meet your daughter.

So you waited until he fell asleep with Mateo on his chest before you crawled out of the bed and slipped on a pair of shoes to make your way down the hall. The orange bracelet laced around your wrist gives you unfettered access to the unit, but you haven't used it as of yet, and so it feels heavy against your skin. When you finally enter the unit all you can see is her. She is every bit of a beauty that everyone told you she is, and you stare at her for what seems like hours before you gather the courage to reach in and brush your finger down her cheek. There a tightness in your chest, as if your heart is being gripped in a hand too strong for your liking. There's a lump in your throat that you've been trying to swallow, but it doesn't seem to be budging.

"Hello, Emiliana," you whisper, picking up her right hand in your own, your thumb trailing over her fingers. "I'm your mother." you continue introducing yourself. You move to trace your fingers over the lines of her face, the curve of her red lips, the rosy tint to her cheeks, her skin is a lighter color of caramel than that of her brother.

"Excuse me, but you can't be in here." a voice cuts through you memorizing the lines of your daughter's face and you jump, startling Emiliana awake. You turn to look at the nurse standing behind you, her badge reads Cassie and you fix her with a glare the likes of which you haven't given anybody in a while.

"I'm her mother," you say, before turning back to your daughter. "I can be in here."

"I'm sorry, I was told her mother doesn't visit. I've only ever seen her father," she replies stuttering and approaching Emiliana with a clip board in her hands.

"Get away from my daughter," you say, a harsh edge to your voice. You've stiffened at the thought of anyone placing their hands on her. Cassie steps away from the cradle muttering that she will be back once you've finished. You step closer to the cradle, reaching in to gently pick up your daughter who is now whimpering in your arms.

You stare down at your daughter with amazement. She is tiny in your arms, staring up at you swaddled in a blanket as pink as the tinge to her skin. Your breasts are heavy with the need to feed her, but it is overshadowed by the need to watch her. You're marveling at the fact that you are once again, holding a living, breathing child in your trembling arms. Trembling so much that you're afraid that you will disrupt her with the constant motion, but still she remains calm. Your mind is rattling off lists of things that you would need to complete, and for the first time in over a year you scold yourself for getting rid of Amalia's things, even though it would have hurt you to have that reminder, it would have saved you time in the long run.

When Cassie comes back you are holding Emiliana to your chest with a frustrated groan as your daughter refused to latch onto your right nipple. "I'm sorry," you whisper to the nurse, refusing to look up at her. "She's not latching," you say, getting frustrated, rocking the chair back and forth to try and calm her simpering.

"I can show you some techniques that have worked in the past," Cassie says, closing the curtains around you and Emiliana. "I know she's been having a hard time staying awake while feeding, so if she falls asleep or doesn't latch on, we can switch to the tube." she continues, breezing through the demonstration and as she helps you lead your daughter to your breast you realize that you are crying. Hot tears are trailing down your cheeks as she opens her mouth to finally latch onto your breast and you wince at the sharp pain that erupts from the nerve endings as she begins to feed.

"She's doing it," you whisper with a smile spreading like wildfire across your face. "You're doing it, Emmy." You realize that the pain pales in comparison to the bond that you are forging with your daughter in this moment. Gently you slide the hat from her head to reveal a tuft of golden blonde hair and you chuckle at the stark contrast to her brother. "You're beautiful, baby girl." And there was that phrase again, and this time it doesn't fill you with the despair that it used to after Derek left, and it doesn't fill you with the same type of pain that it did after you had Amalia. You close your eyes as your daughter suckles from your breasts and think about what you're feeling in this moment.

Holding her was a simultaneous combustion of color and feelings. Holding her felt like crashing into a wall at seventy-five miles per hour without your seatbelt on. Holding her sounded like a distant symphony of instruments that only you could hear. Holding her was like a tearing of flesh above your heart as surgeons tried to revive the once beating organ. Holding her was a catastrophe wreaking havoc on your brain, causing your synapses to stop firing altogether. Holding her was a blessing in and of the same proportion. Holding her...Emiliana, holding her was comfort food on a cold winter morning when you awake with a cold that causes your throat to burn. Holding her was a vast difference from holding Amalia in your arms, and you fear that the memories of the prior interaction would contradict holding Emiliana, but they don't. Holding Emiliana fills you with a surge of love that you can't control the sob that crawls up your throat and pushes past your lips.

_Holding her felt a lot like coming home. It makes you wonder what you were so afraid of in the first place._

* * *

The house is silent around you when you finally return home with Emiliana a few weeks later. Mateo is currently being bottle fed by his grandmother on the couch in the living room as Luke walks into the house carrying your daughter in one hand, the bags in his other hand. You shut the door behind him, tossing yourself against the wood and breathing a sigh of relief. You're finally home, something that you have been looking forward to for weeks, but being home doesn't mean that the hard part is over.

You stay against the door for a few moments, listening to the commotion in the living room and you look over at the stairs and wonder if you can dart upstairs. Would anyone miss you? Before you can finish the thought you can feel Luke pressing up against you, his lips brushing against yours before he bites your bottom lip with a rough precision that you haven't felt in a long time. You sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his fingers intertwine themselves with the strands of your hair. His body is pressed firmly against yours and you can feel the hardened length of him against you. You groan, pushing against his chest with your palms, tearing your lips away from him with a breathless sigh. Your breasts are heaving in the entryway and you're sure that they are now leaking milk, which is something you're not entirely sure he could ever find sexy.

"I have something to show you," he says, placing his forehead against yours after he backs away from you. His fingers have trailed down from your hair to lace around yours, and you marvel at how your hand fits perfectly in his. "Mami," he calls out over his shoulder. "I'm going to take Penelope upstairs." he continues, pulling you up from the door and guiding you to the stairs, swatting you on the ass as he does so. He allows you to walk upstairs on your own before pulling a tie out of his back pocket, flourishing it around you before he blindfolds you once again.

"We're going to have to use this tie in the bedroom soon," you mutter as you reach up and cover your eyes with the silky material. You can't see him but you can feel him in front of you chuckling. Your mind is racing with thoughts of exactly what this tie could be used for, but you don't open your mouth to express them, instead holding your hand out for his. He leads you down the hallway, and you know it's twenty steps until you get to your bedroom, but you stop ten steps down the hallway. Instead of turning left into what you know is Mateo's bedroom you turn right.

"Close your eyes," he whispers, kissing your neck as he releases the knot at the back of your head, letting the tie flutter to the floor. You do as instructed, keeping your eyes closed until he tells you to open them, and when you do, your hands immediately clasp over your mouth before you turn to look at your fiance.

"When did you do this?" you ask him, your fingers trailing over the wood of the crib you assumed were long gone. "Where did you get all of this?"

"After...I couldn't part with anything so I had my parents store it in my old bedroom," he says in explanation. "I assumed that one day you'd rather have her things than not having them. I hope I made the right choice." he continues, gripping your hand in his own.

"Thank you." you whisper, closing your eyes once again and laying your head on his chest.

"I'll always take care of you." he continues, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly against his chest. He places a kiss on your forehead, exhaling a breath he seemed to have been holding for a while against your skin. "I love you."


	17. Chapter 17

**0-3 Months After Birth**

* * *

You knew parenting would be hard. You expected the sleepless nights, endless feedings, constant turnover of soiled diapers, but you weren't prepared for there to be double. So it was no surprise to you when he came home one night to find you crouched in the kitchen with a bottle in one hand and Emiliana in the other. He didn't expect to see you crying as your daughter slept peacefully in your arms. He came over to you, gently taking Emiliana from your arms and placing her in the bassinet near her brother before he came over to gather you into his arms. He's silent as he rubs your back on the kitchen floor and you clutch onto his shirt, crumpling the fabric in your fist as you let out your frustrations. Your eyes are searching frantically over his shoulder for your daughter, your heart racing at the fact that she isn't near you. Your chest is tight and you're sure that you can't breathe.

"Shh." He says, reaching up to cup the back of your head, patting your hair. "It's okay." He continues. You shake your head, peeling yourself away from him. You realize then that you haven't showered in the entire time that he has been gone, and you can't remember when the last time you actually slept or ate something. You're wearing his ARMY t-shirt once again, but now it's stained with breast milk, Desatin, and you're sure that there's a baby wipe stuck to you somewhere. You walk back over to your daughter, peering down at her face, checking to make sure that she is still breathing before you turn back to your fiance.

"I can't do this, Luke." You say, fiddling with the bottle in your hand. You realize that this is the first time in over a week that your children have slept at the same time and you let out a relieved sigh. "I'm outnumbered. I'm not good at this, I'm a terrible mother. I can't keep them happy." You whisper to him, hyper aware that you haven't brushed your teeth in the same amount of time that you haven't showered. You cover your mouth before turning to walk back into the kitchen, leaning your head against the granite countertop, continuing to clutch the bottle between your clasped hands. "I can't do this." You feel him come up behind you, running his hands along your spine in a soothing motion you've witnessed him lull Mateo to sleep with. You stand up straight and lean back into his chest, your eyes constantly darting to the bassinet where your daughter is sleeping.

"When did you pump this?" He asks reaching around you to grab the bottle, and you shake your head, you truly couldn't remember where the bottle even came from much less when you pulled the liquid from your body. You turn to face him leaning your head against his chest, angling the two of you so that your eyes could align with the bassinets perfectly. Your heartbeat settles when you can keep a constant eye on them...on her, you correct yourself. There's something deep seated inside of you that won't rest unless she is near. And while you're being honest you realize that there were plenty of times that you could have showered over the last few weeks, but you didn't simply because you couldn't stand to be away from her.

"I'm not sure." You say, feeling your breasts to see if they were full. "Be safe and toss it." You say, and immediately start to cry over the loss of the breast milk. You're not sure when it was pumped but the pain from pulling the milk from your nipples still pains you. The long draw of the suction vacuuming the milk from the tiny holes, you shudder and rub your hands over your already sore nipples. "How much do we have saved?" You ask him as he rinses the bottle and places it in the dishwasher, realizing it was full, he tosses in a detergent pack and presses the start button. You watch as he walks over to the fridge, prying open the door and checking the milk surplus you try to keep on hand. His body language tells you that there is none and you let out a sob realize that the last remnants of food for your children have since been rinsed down the drain, and you would need to milk yourself like fucking cattle once again.

"Penelope Garcia, you are the strongest person I know." He says, reaching under the kitchen sink to grab the Clorox wipes, he begins to wipe down the countertops as he speaks to you. "You're doing a great job, I know we weren't prepared for two of them, but that's what we got." He continues. "I'm going to ask Prentiss for some time off so that I can be around to help out more. I can't keep going away and expect you to care for two children, and still do your job." You look up at him, wiping angrily at your eyes. While you appreciate the sentiment, you surmise, you don't need anybody looking after you.

"No." You say. "You can't take time off." Luke turns to look at you, leaning against the counter and crosses his arms against his chest. "It's not fair for the team to lose two of us, we promised that our relationship wouldn't interfere with the team, and we have to keep that promise at least." You turn your back on him and walk into the living room to check on the twins. They're both sleeping soundly for being three months old, and you thank everything that they are still silent. Reaching into you run your finger gently down your daughter's face, pausing to place your hand on her stomach if only to settle the ever present thought in your mind that she was gone. Relieved, you sigh, she's still breathing. It's a morbid existence to live in, but here you reside.

"Then what do you suggest?" He asks, coming up behind you, and wrapping you in a hug. Luke places his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing your neck for a brief second, and you shudder. You're sure that your skin is sticky with sweat, and spit up, and breast milk, and you can only hazard a guess as to what else may be currently stuck to your skin. But still, he presses his lips against your skin again. You run your hands down his arms gripping his hands with your own, before leaning your head back against his shoulder. You sigh as he squeezes you tighter, goose bumps erupting over your skin the same way it always does whenever he touches you.

"I suggest that I take a shower and brush my teeth." You say, removing his arms from around your middle. "And then I'm taking Roxy for a run."

**3-6 Months After Birth**

* * *

You're laying near Luke later that night much like you used to do before the twins came along. You're running your fingers over his chest as you listen to his deep breathing. There's a part of you that is insanely jealous that he can close his eyes and fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. You're wondering why it is taking you so long to fall asleep even though you are utterly exhausted. The twins are both sleeping and this would be the perfect opportunity for you to finally rest. For the first time in damn near twenty-four hours, you can finally relax. With two babies attempting to crawl around the house getting into everything they could get their tiny little hands on. Watching them in between working from home to help the team as much as possible, your mind and body are ready to give up on you. But even still with your body on the precipice of shutting down, you lie awake listening to the silence in the house. It's not until your eyes begin to droop that you hear his voice, gruff and sleep laden.

"Go to sleep, Flower." He says. "I can hear your wheels turning over here." You chuckle turning on your side to look at him. He's sleeping on his stomach, much like he always does, with one hand under the pillow and the other tossed over your waist. His fingers are drawing a lazy circle pattern on the shirt covering your hip but it still ignites a flame on your skin. You wish for him to be still, you wish for him to close his eyes and fall back asleep, you wish for the sandman to take you off to sleep as well. But instead of ignoring him you speak.

"I can't sleep." You say. He's turned onto his side, sliding his hand up your shirt and palming your breasts in his right hand. There's a playful glint in his eyes, one that you've seen ever since you first laid eyes on him, and it causes you to smile back at him sleepily. Your lips spread lazily across your face as he runs his thumb over your nipple pebbling it to a hardened peak. He's careful to be sensitive as you are still feeding the twins, but still, he leans closer to you, pressing a gentle kiss where his thumb grazed. Wrapping his lips around the bud, he darts his tongue out to wet the flesh, causing you to arch deeper into his mouth letting out a breathy moan. Your fingers fly to his hair, yanking roughly at the roots, and you're not sure if his attention is causing you pain or pleasure. Either way, you decide, the distraction is welcomed.

"I know something that will help you sleep." He says, unwrapping his mouth from your breast, and you groan. He lifts the blankets over his head and begins kissing his way down your body. He pauses on your stomach, taking his time to kiss the stretch marks before he trails his tongue in a slow circle around your belly button. Luke uses his beard to gently scratch your skin placing a kiss to each of your thighs after he roughly grasps them, prying your legs open. He bites you on your right inner thigh, sucking the skin into his mouth, something that you're sure will leave a mark in the morning. You gasp when you feel his tongue on you, and close your eyes, letting yourself lay back and relax. You feel his beard scratching the inside of your thighs, and you let out a moan as he hits all of the places that you enjoy. His teeth graze your clit, biting softly before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard. His fingers slide into you and you toss your head back. You run a hand between your breasts, sliding into his hair, holding his head in place. You hear him laugh between your legs, something that would have caused you to scramble away from a man before, only causes you to tug on his hair. You know that he's only laughing because this is something you like to do, something he likes for you to do, something you both enjoy. Before you know it you're begging him to be inside of you, and he responds with silently climbing up your body, and entering you in one swift motion. The sheer force of the thrust causes you to slide up the bed and knock your head into the board. He rears back and enters you slowly the second time, leaning down to place a kiss behind your ear. You let out a loud moan at the same time as cries can be heard from down the hall.

"Fuck." You exclaim, punching your hand back against the pillow as you pull your shirt down and climb out of the bed. He stops you, laying you back into the bed, and covering you with the blankets.

"Stay here, I'll take care of them, and when I get back, I'll finish what I started." He says pulling his gray sweatpants up over his hips. And before you know it he's gone off down the hall and you can hear him talking to Mateo over the baby monitor. You turn on your side, placing one hand under your face and the other under your pillow. Your body is still on fire but the need slowly dissipates as you hear Luke talk to Mateo over the monitor.

"Hey, little man." He says. You imagine him rocking the infant back and forth. "We're going to change your diaper, and then we're going to feed you, we're not going to wake your sister, and then I'm going back to your mom." He continues talking to his son. "You'll understand someday when you have a family of your own, little one." You feel your eyes get heavy. "You and your sister are mommy's little miracles. She's healing so we need to be really gentle with her okay? We're going to take it easy on her. Maybe you can take longer naps?" Mateo is cooing now, and you can hear the beginning of his giggling. Your attention is divided when his phone begins ringing, and you see Emily's name on the screen. You hit the answer button and hold the phone to your ear.

"Hey Em." You say yawning.

"Hey PG, I didn't wake you did I?" She asks, and you can hear some shuffling on her end.

"No, Mateo is up." You explain. "Is there a case?" You ask, immediately reaching for your laptop. She sighs deeply.

"Yeah, it's a bad one too." She says and you can hear a door closing behind her. "We're going to need Luke in an hour, we're going to Detroit. Serial rapist. I've sent the files over to you."

"I'll let Luke know and we'll be at Quantico within the hour." You say, flipping the covers off of you and making your way down the hall.

"Okay, PG. Drive safe." And the line disconnects.

"Babe, we have a case." You say, walking into Mateo's room. He's standing with his fingers to his lips, as he's rocking him back to sleep. Luke stands and walks over to the crib placing the now sleeping infant into the bed.

"I'll call my mom." He says and you nod, leaning over Mateo's crib to place a kiss on his forehead before you walk across the hall to check on Emiliana. "Where are we going?" He asks, following you into her room, but you place your hand on his chest, stopping him. You turn him bodily and point him down the hall. You walk into the room and make sure that she is still breathing, and you sigh in relief when you realize that she is. Gently you close the door to her bedroom before walking down the hall to join Luke in your room.

"Detroit." You answer him as you pull his go bag out of the closet and ushering him to the shower. He reaches out and pulls you along with him. His fingers are brushing your thighs under the hem of the shift. His fingers trail upwards, reaching into your folds to slip one of his long fingers inside of you. You let out a shaky breath, wrapping your arms around his neck in order to keep yourself standing upright.

"How long?" Luke asks, kissing your neck and your knees are shaking with the pleasure of his lips dragging over your skin. He pulls his lips back to run his teeth across the skin he just kissed.

"Wheels up in an hour." You respond.

"That's plenty of time." He says, peeling the shirt off of your body and lifting you up. "Besides, I'll make it quick."

**6-9 Months After Birth**

* * *

I think he's hungry." Luke says, walking into the living room cradling Mateo to his chest and you look up at him. He has a burp cloth tossed over his right shoulder, much like he does when he's cooking, but you don't let yourself look at him for too long. His eyes are pleading with you silently, asking you for something that you're not too sure that you can give at the moment. You're sitting on the couch rocking Emmy in your arms, bouncing your daughter as she emits tiny wails from being ripped from her peaceful slumber by the loud cries of her brother.

"There are bottles in the fridge." You reply offhandedly, turning your attention back to your daughter. You look over at Luke, who's staring at you incredulously, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging agape. He's bouncing Mateo in his arms, rocking him back and forth as he walks the length of the living room. You can see the tension in your shoulders, but instead of getting up to help him with the screaming infant, you keep your attention on your daughter. You have your legs up on the couch and you've laid her on her back against your thighs. You're smiling at her and tickling her stomach.

"He's awake," Luke begins "you could just..."

"No." You snap. Turning your attention back to your daughter, refusing to trade her for Mateo. Your grip on her tightens slightly and your heart begins to race in your chest. Beating so loud that you're sure that Luke can hear it from across the room. Your breath is coming in shallow gasps now and your vision is starting to cloud around the edges. Your lungs feel like they're collapsing at the sheer thought of letting your daughter go. There's a small sheen of sweat that breaks out across your skin and suddenly you feel as if you can see and feel everything. You start to shake, just enough to cause the smile to slip from your daughter's face as she tunes into your feelings.

"He needs his mother, Penelope," Luke says, and he sounds like he's begging now. You look into his honey brown eyes, there are tears gathered at the base and if he blinks you're sure they will roll down his face. But you still can't bring yourself to hand your daughter off to him, and while it strikes you as odd, you don't pause to examine it. You continue to look at him, begging him silently to understand what is going on, begging him to understand you, begging him to realize that you just can't let her go. Because if you take your eyes off of her for even one second...she could disappear. The thought strikes you deep in your heart and you wonder exactly when you realized that this is the reason that you've been so attached to her. You're afraid that something will happen to her.

"Test it on your wrist first," you say as he turns to walk into the kitchen shaking his head and rocking Mateo as he walks. His shoulders are even tenser now, and you're not sure exactly how to voice what you want to say to him. You open your mouth several times in order to voice the revelation, but nothing comes out and so you close your mouth, turning your head back to your daughter. Letting a tear slide down your cheek as you pick her up and place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I know how to feed him." He snaps. "It's my daughter I've never fed. You have two living kids, Penelope," he says, spitting your name out so harshly. You've never felt such anger directed at you from him and the truth behind his words slaps you across the face. You stare at him, knowing in your heart that he's right but not sure how you can backtrack all these months. How much damage have your actions caused your son already? _What have I done?_ You ask yourself for what felt like the millionth time in the span of a few moments.

"Luke..." you finally manage to gasp out. Your throat feels dry and as if it's been closed off for years. He doesn't turn to look at you and the pain that is radiating in your chest doubles. You slowly climb off of the couch, placing your daughter in the swing that is located near one of Roxy's many beds, and turn the contraption on. You allow the music to take a hold of you as you listen to Luke slam a pot onto the stove. Mateo has yet to stop crying and you know that the both of you are feeling on edge from lack of sleep over the last six months, but still you don't turn to him, instead, you clutch yourself.

"If I stop looking at her she will disappear," you say, loud enough for him to hear. But still, he says nothing as you hear the click of the stove igniting. You listen for the sound of the bottle dropping into the pot, and you're sure that you bought a bottle warmer but he refuses to use it. Instead, heating the damn things the same way his mother used to.

"That's bullshit and you know it," he says after a few moments. When the bottle is warmed he walks over to you, placing Mateo in your arms and reaching to pick up Emiliana. You freeze with your son in your arms, his hands reaching out to grasp at the skin of your breast, his eyes closed and lips sucking. You look at Luke, who is bottle feeding your daughter, and you realize that she didn't disappear when you took your eyes off of her to look at Mateo. In fact, she was there, she was quiet, and she was smiling happily up at her father. _He's not Ryan._ You tell yourself, something that you know in your heart and in your soul, but still, your mind saw fit to play tricks on you from time to time. You wonder again if you should make an appointment to see Rebecca, and you wonder how many sessions she will sit through before she writes you off as a lost cause.

Your son's cries pull you from your thoughts as you cradle him in your arms while walking over to the couch. You smile down at him as he starts to nurse from you, his mouth pulling the milk from your breast much gentler than his sister. You run your fingers over his head, gently singing a soft lullaby to him. As his eyes closed you close your own letting another tear roll down your cheeks. When he's had his fill you lift him to your shoulder, tapping his back forcing a burp from his lips. His eyes remain closed and his breathing evens out and you hold him for a long while after he falls asleep, his hand wrapped around your finger.

When Luke comes back into the living room after putting Emiliana down for the night you're still on the couch with Mateo. Your eyes are staring at him, unmoving, and you're wondering how many nights like this you missed out on for fear of leaving your daughter's side.

"Let me put him down," Luke says, taking Mateo out of your arms and walking out of the room. You follow him up the stairs, checking to make sure that the doors are locked as you go. When you finally get upstairs Luke is sitting on the edge of your bed, clutching the baby monitor. His shoulders are slumped forward and you're almost positive that he is crying, but you don't approach him, instead you strip down and walk towards the bathroom, desiring nothing more than a hot shower in that moment.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he says, turning his head to watch you walk past him. You don't speak instead leaving the door to the bathroom open as you turn on the shower. You're not sure if he followed, but you can feel him behind you as you turn on the shower.

"I'm sorry...I didn't realize that I was neglecting him," you whisper as you feel the water cascade onto your body. You can feel him behind you in the shower, his arms wrapping around your waist. You don't know when the tears started to fall, but the guilt you can feel now has always been there under the surface of your skin trying to claw its way out of you. Seeping out through your pores. He doesn't say anything, instead turning you to face him. Luke places his lips over yours, lifting you up into his arms, slamming your body into the tiled wall of the shower. He doesn't make love to you like he did before the twins were born, this time it's rough, his body slamming into yours over and over again. Anger seeping out of him in waves as he uses your body for a release that you both so obviously needed. He covers your mouth with his hand as you scream out your release. When you're both done you silently shower. He doesn't speak to you again until you're climbing into bed.

"We will move forward together, Flower." before he closed his eyes, pulling you into him and placing a kiss on your forehead. "I love you."

**9-12 Months After Birth**

"You really should start thinking about the wedding," Lucia said a few months later, the twins were just about to turn a year old and you're sitting with Mateo in your lap with Emmy as you've all come to call her, waddling her way across the living room floor. She would always use the baby gate to stand, turn, drop to her knees and crawl to the other side of the room. You're sipping on a cup of coffee with your right-hand racing across the keys of your laptop. There's a ringing in your ear and you reach up to answer the call on your Bluetooth headset.

"Garcia's House of Dirty Diapers and Wisdom, what answers do you seek today wise ones?" You ask and you pull up a second screen to execute the search. Relaying the information to Prentiss who in turns tells you that they are heading out to grab the UnSub and Luke should be home soon. "Tell him we love and miss him." You say before reaching up to disconnect the call.

"Si, Lucia, I have a dress fitting next week, and we have an appointment with Father Malcolm once Luke gets home." You say to her, picking up your cup of coffee and lifting your son's bottom to your face, taking a sniff to ensure that he was still clean. You kiss his head and place him on the floor with his sister as you get up. You climb over the baby gate to grab a sippy cup for each of them and you watch Mateo waddle to Emmy and place his hand on her head, pushing her down.

"You're not using the family church?" She asks, and you pause for a moment, continuing with preparing the cups. You add a small bit of rice to each cup knowing that your children were going through a growth spurt. Forever hungry, you chuckle. You've started them on semi solid food months ago, but sometimes what they really wanted was to suck down some milk.

"I thought Luke had this discussion with you." You say, turning around to give your children their milk. "We decided to go with the local church. Since it's where the twins are going to be baptized." You say as the beeping in your ear starts up again. "Garcia's House of Trick Mirrors and Breast Milk." You listen to the other person on the line start laughing and you relax as his voice washes over you.

"Hi, Flower." He says, and you hate the immediate high pitch your voice takes on. His voice has always calmed you in more ways than you cared to admit. The sweet melody that the sound plays across your skin whenever he speaks to you soothes your soul in ways that you didn't ever think was possible. But still, he continues to speak to you in that gravelly voice, sending shockwaves through your spine, causing your panties to moisten no matter the time or place. In fact, you remember asking him not to call during the second trimester of your pregnancy, knowing that just the sound of your voice sexually aroused you, and more often than not he was out on a case, leaving you to reach between your folds the second you were home and wrapped in the bed that smelt like him.

"Hola, señor." You say you've been brushing up on your Spanish, wanting to say your vows to him in both languages. It's a truly beautiful sentiment and you applauded yourself when you thought it up. The lessons you've been taking with Alma are truly paying off if you don't mind saying. He chuckles again.

"Rossi asked if you can get the blueprints for the UnSub's house before we go in. He thinks that there may be a few floors build underground."

"Underground? How is that even possible?" You ask, rushing over to your laptop and pulling up the needed information. "I've sent it to your phone." You say and before he can disconnect the call "Estar seguro, mi amor." You whisper closing your eyes and imagining his face. You can clearly see the crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he smiles, placing a hand over his heart. The kevlar vest would be wrapped firmly around his body and for that, you're truly grateful.

"I always am, Flower." He says before the line goes silent. You turn back to your children who are silently sitting on the floor drinking their milk and watching the television. You sigh, knowing that you never wanted to be that type of parent, but when you were working from home you had to at times. They were quiet for now, and after this you and Lucia would be taking them to the park.

"Who's ready to see Daddy?" You ask your children, and Emmy claps her hands squealing as Mateo looks at you and rolls onto his back. You smile down at them, still wondering how it was possible that you were blessed with two beautiful children, especially your daughter. You take your time to look closely at her. With her blonde curls pulled back from her face with a headband.

"My son is coming home?" Lucia asks and you nod your head, looking up at her and smiling. "Good, I can talk to him about this church nonsense." She says, standing and stepping through the baby gate into the kitchen. "I'm going to get the stroller into the car." she continues, grabbing the diaper bag off of the bench in the entryway, shutting the door a little too forcefully for your liking, but you let it slide. You sink to your knees gathering your daughter into your arms placing a kiss on the top of her head. You glance up to the wall and look at the picture of Amalia, silently thanking her for watching over all of you. You smile at her and close your eyes for a moment pretending that she was also in this room, a little two-year old toddling around after her siblings. You smile at your children as the ringing in your ears goes off again. Chuckling you reach up to answer the call.

"Soon to be Alvez's House of Eternal Wisdom. What's your pleasure?

_You have a collect call from Coffeewood Correctional Center. Do you accept the charges?_

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

You're exhausted.

Utterly exhausted.

You're sitting on the couch with Roxy covering your feet, her fur keeping your toes the perfect temperature, and you're clutching a glass of wine between your hands with your eyes staring out the window, settling on the tree line that borders your property. In the silence, you can hear his car pull into the garage and you let out a breath you didn't know you've been holding when you hear him slam the door shut, his boots echoing loudly with each step he took. Closer to you. It's gray you realize, the trees are gray, your dress is gray, everything is gray. You close your eyes, slowly blinking away the lack of color. It had managed to stay for over a year this time...you wonder when it'll come back.

"Flower?" he asks, rushing into the room, his go bag in one hand, his keys clenched in his other fist, much like he always does. You don't move at the sound of his voice, and for a second you wonder if you had even heard him. Was he even truly there? But still, your eyes remain closed as Roxy wakes up, bounding off of the couch with a small bark, and you can hear the jingle of her collar as he scratches her in a hasty hello. You slide your feet closer to your body, making room for him on the couch and you know that he is truly here with you. The couch dips under his weight and his hands reach out to grasp onto your calves, pulling your legs over his lap.

"Penelope?" he tries again, and this time you know he's here because he's moved onto rubbing the soles of your feet, his thumbs drumming a soft beat into them. You still don't open your eyes, choosing instead to lift the glass of wine to your lips and take a sip, you don't care when a drop of the liquid escapes your mouth and dribbles down the side of your chin. You don't care that this glass is your fifth, or that you're on your second bottle of wine. You don't care that the house is still a mess from the time you spent playing with the twins before you got that heinous phone call. You don't care that your children are currently at their grandmother's house because you literally couldn't move after you refused the charges for the fifth time. But still, he kept calling until you turned off every phone you had, even pulling the house phone out of the wall.

"Talk to me, please," he begs you, his fingers moving to your other foot, giving it a gentle squeeze before resuming the same rhythm he has been beating. You still don't say a word, instead of reaching up to finish the wine that was currently sloshing at the bottom of her glass. You let out a shaky breath before reaching over to grasp the bottle by its neck, pulling the cork out with your teeth and pouring the final dredges of liquid into the cup before tossing that back like you used to in high school. You wonder when your taste in alcohol changed from straight tequila to Moscato and you surmise that it probably happened around year 32, and you let out a sad sigh at lost youth. You put the empty wine glass on the table, sliding it into the center with your middle finger for fear of it falling down and staining your cream carpet. Corking the bottle and placing it beside the wine glass you finally decide to open your eyes, praying that when you look upon him, he would be the only thing in color.

You were severely disappointed.

But the alcohol coating your stomach made you brazen, and the fact that you dug around in Ryan's records once the kids were safely out of the house, and the phones were all disconnected. Which you now realize probably scared the hell out of your fiance, but you find that you don't care in this moment. You pull your feet back from him, instead of standing and walking in front of him. You reach out for his hand which he readily gives you before you sink to your knees in front of him. Placing your hands on his knees and sliding them up to his belt buckle causes a chill to roll down your spine, and you shudder with anticipation as you unbuckle his belt, and then his jeans, and slowly you pull down the zipper, before reaching up to grasp the top of his pants, giving them a swift yank. He tries to remain seated but you look into his eyes again, pleading with him silently, telling him that right now the only thing you want to feel is him hardened and thrusting into your mouth. You convey to him that the only thing you want to taste is him exploding onto your tongue and dribbling onto your lips. You yank again and this time he raises his hips allowing you to pull his pants down to his ankles before you begin to place kisses on his toned legs. Running your tongue along his skin, biting on his inner thighs, scraping your nails across his legs as you go, mixing pleasure with pain, a direct parallel for your entire fucking life. When you finally reach your destination he's standing fully erect, his penis laying proudly against his stomach, and you reach out to trace your finger tips over the veins that stand out in direct contrast. He hisses as the contact, his hands remaining by his side before you grip him and slowly run your hand up his length and back down again. You lean closer to him, aligning the tip with your red stained lips, darting your tongue out to wet his head.

"He's getting out," you say before you slide your mouth down his entire length, moaning when you feel him hit the back of your throat, instead of gagging you relax, letting him slide deeper into you. And he was trying to speak to you, trying to comment on the three words you just uttered into the deafening silence of your living room, but you realize that his voice has failed him. His hands coming to rest on the back of your head, holding you in place as his hips buck wildly off the couch, your mouth continuing to suck him off.

Because right now, if you're going to feel dirty, you're going to actually fucking enjoy it for once.

* * *

You've been working for days on the same case, your searches turning up empty no matter how narrow or wide you set the parameters. You're running on little to no sleep, and Lucia has been texting you nonsense about having the children three days in a row. You scoff every time you read the sentence degrading you in so many words about continuing to work when you have two children at home, especially since they are turning one in less than a week. But staying home doesn't pay the bills, you tell yourself. And staying home doesn't keep these people off the streets, and so you ignore her, instead, starting your search from scratch. You don't pay much attention to the knocking on your door, except to shout 'Enter' as your fingers continue to fly across the keys, pounding the search button with such intensity. Frustration clear in everything that you do.

"Penelope, Emily asked me to help out," he says as he closes the door behind him with a gentle click and you briefly turn in your chair to lock eyes with your ex-boyfriend. You smile.

"Thank heavens!" you exclaim, rolling yourself away from half of your screens. "Take this side. This guy has been striking every twelve hours, killing the parents of three-year-old children. I can't find anything that happened in 2019 that would cause this." you continue, your fingers rolling over the keys again when your search comes up empty.

"Try searching 2018," Kevin says, pulling his bag off of his shoulder and tossing it on the couch. "New edition?" he asks pointing to the furniture. You don't take your eyes off of the screen as you expand your search to include 2018, opening it up to all of the US.

"Yeah," you say offhandedly, glancing over at it and smiling. "Luke dragged it in here when I was pregnant with our daughter," you explain, failing to catch the look of hurt that flashes across his face. Your eyes are glued back onto the screen in front of you.

"So it was the idea of marrying me then?" he asks, and you stiffen in your chair, turning yourself to look at him. His eyes are glued to the large picture you have on your desk, the one with you and Luke and the twins. It was from the first time you ever took them to the park when they were around four months old. You loved the picture because of the way you and Luke were both staring down at your children, a calm look plastered over your tired faces, and the sun glints off of the diamond ring he had placed on your finger the night you found out you were pregnant with the twins. Your left hand was cradling your daughter, his right hand cradling your son, and your remaining hands were clasped in the middle of the two of you. "I guess you did fall for the alpha male after all, didn't you?" he continues, shaking his head before turning to resume his search.

"I wasn't ready for marriage then," you whisper, your eyes never leaving the picture. "A lot has changed in the last seven years, Kevin. I was hung up on someone else then, I was hung up on someone else when I first met Luke. You deserved better than me." you finish, turning your attention back to the screen, clapping excitedly when after three days your searches finally turn up with something. You reach out, pressing the well-worn number on the speed dial and you smile softly when his groggy voice comes over the line.

"Flower, is everything alright? How are the kids?" he asks and you can hear him yawning, you imagine that he's sitting up in the bed now, his left hand coming over to scratch at his chest like he always does. You twirl the pink flower pen between your hands, butterflies settling into your stomach and a pool of arousal awakening between your legs.

"Everything is fine, love. I got a list of twenty names. People who lost their children in 2018 in the San Diego area due to a home invasion. All with children who passed at three years of age." your voice shakes a bit at the end there, and Kevin gives you a look that this time doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"I'll wake the others and we'll call you back," he says, more alert this time. "I love you." You turn back to Kevin who is glaring at the phone and you sigh, rolling yourself over to him you reach out to grasp his hands between your own.

"Emily asked you for help because she realized I couldn't do this on my own, but if you can't put aside the fact that I never agreed to marry you then please leave now. I can't handle someone else's emotional baggage on top of my own right now. I loved you, Kevin, I truly did. But at that time you wanted something that I didn't."

"I loved you," he says, keeping his hands clasped in yours. His fingers tracing a small circle against your palm. He used to do this when he was nervous, especially before he would kiss you.

"I loved you too, but I was also in love with someone else," you say, pulling your hands back and resting them in your lap. He doesn't have to ask you who the other person was, his name hanging in the silence between you.

* * *

His fingers are dancing across your skin as you lay in bed after the twin's birthday party that day. There's a soft white glow of moonlight filtering in through the shades that you were too lazy to shutter before you dropped into bed. His breathing hasn't evened out and his posture is too stiff for him to be sleeping and so you settle yourself closer to him, your hand reaching up to lay on his bare chest.

"What's running through that gorgeous mind of yours?" you ask him, hoping to gently pull him out of his thoughts. He lets out a deep sigh, turning his head to place a kiss on your forehead. His breath is warm against your skin and you close your eyes, relaxing for a moment in the intimacy provided to you by just laying intertwined in the sheets.

"I couldn't stop the mother from bleeding out," he says, his breath coming in ragged. "I was clutching her sheets to her neck, trying to apply pressure, but he cut her carotid artery and there was nothing that I could do. And when she died in my arms, her daughter started to cry. Being a father has changed me so much because I ran to her, she has the same bed that Emmy does, and I picked her up. Because in this world she's alone now, no grandparents, no aunts or uncles, no cousins, no long lost relatives in another country. This three-year-old girl is all alone." he takes a deep breath and you can feel him shaking as his arms grip you tighter. "I had to give her to Social Services, and my heart nearly shattered. She was clinging to me, Pen, literally screaming for me to not let her go, but I had to. And then when I come home it's like it never happened, or at least that's how it should have been, but here we are two weeks later and I can't get her out of my mind."

"We could always try and adopt her," you say once you're sure he's finished speaking. His fingers still in their dance up your spine, and you press on. "You're the one who bought a five bedroom house, did you not expect to fill it?" you ask, climbing on top of him, leaning down to place a kiss on his neck. His arms return to slide around you, squeezing you closer to him as you grind your hips into his, feeling the beginning stages of his arousal. His eyes are gleaming in the fraction of light from unshed tears as you drag your mouth across his skin, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and nibbling on the fatty flesh. You hiss when his hands quickly make their way between your folds, rubbing the back of his palm against your clit as two fingers slowly enter you. You realize that you haven't been touched in over two weeks and before you can stop yourself you're fucking his hand, your hips moving so quickly that you can't control it. Your hands come up to pinch your nipples through his ARMY shirt, which you're sure has seen better days as it's carried you through several years and three kids. You toss your head back as an orgasm tears through your body, causing you to close your eyes and let out a strangled yelp. He chuckles darkly pulling his fingers out of you and placing them in his mouth, moaning as he cleans them off with his tongue.

"There's more where that came, from." he says, sliding your panties to the side and entering you in one motion. When you're finished and your head is comfortably resting on his heaving chest you agree to start the proceedings at a more acceptable time in the morning, deciding that your legs wouldn't work at this moment even if you wanted them too.

"I want to get married this month." you whisper to him as the sweat cools on your bodies. He doesn't say anything, just pulls you closer into him and captures your lips with his own and you can feel him hardening against your thigh. You giggle before you reach out to brush the tips of your fingers against him.

"You're insatiable." you say as he climbs on top of you, and when your eyes dance over to the alarm clock that reads four thirty you find you don't care as you open your legs and let him enter you once again.

It isn't until you awake later that morning to the smell of pancakes that you realize you could make out the color of the balloons at the party, and the color of his eyes, and the color of the numbers on the clock.


	19. Chapter 19

"I don't understand how this can even be happening right now," Luke says from inside the bathroom, but you can. You understand perfectly well that no matter what you do, you're not supposed to be happy, you're not supposed to be safe, you're not supposed to see the beautiful colors of the world, the pigments that you love so much. You understand that even though you've put so much good into this world, so much love, so much hope… You turn your attention back to the mirror blinking away the thoughts that invade your brain, shaking away the pain that the memories bring you. You have to remind yourself that you do deserve happiness, you do deserve love, you deserve every good thing that has come into your life. You are worthy. You shrug, knowing that he can't see you, and so you smile when his wet head pops out of the shower in order to see if you're still standing there.

"It's a new trial, with a new judge, one who believes that a child has to be born in order to be considered alive," you say, the words spilling from your lips as you turn around to look at your fiance, placing the wand of your mascara into the tube and screwing the top on tight. The words tumble across the room so softly, so dispassionately that you're not even sure you said them. The last time you sat through a trial with Ryan across from you the scars were still fresh, the wounds still ached, your daughter's grave still had fresh dirt. But you're standing here almost two years later, dressed in a sensible red outfit with black heels, blonde hair curled and applying mascara telling yourself that maybe he deserves to get out of prison because you deserve this pain.

"I won't let this happen again," he says, pulling his head back into the shower. "I won't let him hurt you," and you know that deep down he means it. Because this man standing before you with all of his glorious lines, endless patience, and love would go to the ends of the earth to protect his family, and that includes you as well. Breathing out a warbled sigh you turn back to the mirror and take in your reflection for the first time since you got the news. It's been two endless months as you waited for the letter to come in the mail. The paper was still as thick as you remember it, the ink just as dark, just as embossed on the paper, and you wonder if your tax dollars could ever go towards feeding the damn homeless and not this.

"All I have to do is tell my story, Luke," you say as you turn to leave the bathroom. "It's just sad that I have to keep telling this part of it when there is so much more to me than an abusive relationship." You close the door behind you, letting the sound of it latching alert you to the fact that you are alone in the bedroom, for the first time since you told him what was happening with Ryan. You realize that he hasn't left your side since then, the only time you get to be alone was when you locked yourself in another room as you listened to the twins watch a television program, or you wait for Lucia to show up to pierce you with stares that let you know you're not good enough. If you close your eyes in this moment you'll miss the fact that the colors are still shining brightly around you, that yes your scars have faded, that you're still loved, that you still belong. You are more than just your story.

* * *

It's an endless stream of fabric, you realize. Rows of taffeta, chiffon, satin, tulle surround you, pressing on your chest, grasping your windpipe in a stern grip, closing off your airway before you even got a chance to look at anything. You're overwhelmed you realize, and so you revert back to the breathing technique that's been helping you for the better part of a decade. In. Hold. One, two, three. Out. This is how Lucia finds you, holed up in the waiting area with your eyes closed, your purse clutched to your middle, trying to calm your racing heart and slow the onset of the panic attack. You don't open your eyes when she announces her presence, instead holding up a finger as you continue to breathe. She huffs indignantly and your breathing intensifies when you hear her stomp away, obviously upset with your lack of enthusiasm at her arrival.

After a few moments, you open your eyes and look around for her, not daring to enter the room that sent you into a spiral. When you locate her she is lost in the sea of dresses and so you call over an attendant, you think she introduced herself as Callie and asked her to grab Lucia for you. Which at the time you thought was a good idea, but it seems that you misjudged that situation like you do with most everything else. Your attention turns to the ball of material she has in her hands when she approaches you, staring at the lace, and buttons and the gemstones that litter the bodice of the dress with an inward cringe. You realize that once upon a time you wanted a large wedding when your parents were alive and your brothers were speaking to you. You wanted a horse-drawn carriage, and white doves to be released, you wanted to throw bird seeds and have confetti rain down upon you and your groom when he first pressed his lips to yours as husband and wife. You wanted the ice sculpture, and the five-course meal, and the party that lasted until the early morning. You wanted it all.

But now...the thought of a party caused your stomach to curl in on itself, your mind blanking at the sheer sight of this dress, and you're sure that your face mimicked everything you were thinking because of the look Lucia was giving you in this very moment. If ever there was a time for a sink hole to appear and suck you into it, it was now. You were grateful when Callie took over the appointment, sitting you both down and asking what your preference was in a dress, and how many bridesmaids you were going to have. You gave her the details as quickly as you could, naming Emily and JJ to be standing beside you if they wanted to, and adding that to the list of things you should accomplish before the wedding day rolled around in two months. Callie looked at you with alarm when you told her the date of your wedding and chuckled when Lucia made an underhand comment about you waiting so long.

Trying on the dresses were the worst part, since you still hadn't lost all of the baby weight, and you felt that stuffing yourself into dresses that were clearly too small was not a good boost of self-esteem but you marched forward, letting Lucia and Callie dress you in outrageous designs. It wasn't until the final dress that Callie pulled out, the one dress that you had looked at on the hanger and didn't cringe at, that you found you fell in love. It was the lightest beige, bordering on a dusty off-white color, and made entirely of lace. The only intricate detail was the noticeable lines that crossed over the dress. The front surpliced across your breasts, the deep neckline showing the skin between your breasts, but covering your actual breasts. There were two thick straps, which excited you because it meant you didn't have to wear a torturous strapless bra and be miserable for the rest of the day. The dress fell softly to the ground before trailing out behind you for about two inches. You felt beautiful, you looked beautiful, and when you stepped out of the room you thought for a moment everything would finally work out.

"It's nice but you can't wear it in a Catholic Ceremony, there are no sleeves and it is cut too deep, and it's not white. What about the first one?" Lucia says after a few moments of silence. You try your hardest to not scream at the woman, instead turning back into the dressing room and peeling the garment from your body. Your hand trails down the simple lace after you place it on the hanger before you turn back to your own clothing and silently dress yourself. When you emerge from the room Lucia has another dress in her hands, but you ignore it instead, turning to pick up your purse and pulling out your keys.

"I'm done for today," you announce, as you walk past her and head for the door to the shop. You don't turn around when she calls out for you, nor do you stop when she finally races out the door after you. It's only when she catches you at your car that she manged to get a reaction from you, the tears falling down your face clear for her to see in the harsh sunlight of the day.

"You may have given me beautiful grandchildren, but you're clearly too damaged to every truly love my son the way he loves you. He deserves more."

You watch her walk away from you, a very large part believing her more with each step she takes.

* * *

You don't know what you're doing here, you continuously think to yourself as you walk up and knock on the green door in front of you. Your mind is racing as you wait for someone to answer the door, seeing both a red car and black truck parked in the driveway, and you can hear the TV going in the other room. You're fidgeting with your hands, looking down at the cell phone you have clutched in your right hand, pressing ignore every time his face flashes across your screen. When he pulls open the door he doesn't say a word, instead opening it wider to allow you to step into a home you haven't been in for several years.

"I need my best friend," you say as he grips you in a tight hug that you find settles you as well as unnerves you. It's been several years since you could actually stand to be in the same room as him, never mind be in his embrace, but it doesn't stop the onslaught of tears that cascade from your eyes at the feeling you once had. You look up when Savannah enters the room to find her husband clinging to you as you sob, a baby on her hip. She turns when you make eye contact, and you can hear her announce that she's going to put on a pot of coffee.

When you settle into the living room after they send Hank upstairs, you let the words flow from you, realize that while you've had Luke, he's always been too involved. You tell them about Ryan, about how he beat you, raped you, got you pregnant, and left you for dead. You tell them about Amalia, your emotions coming out so fast that you're not sure you're going to be able to hold anything back. You tell them about Lucia and what she's always said to you, what she said to you today is the catalyst that led to you on their doorstep. You tell them about how you feel as if you deserve all of this, that because seven years ago when Derek left the team you fell apart again, and didn't know how to pick yourself back up. You ask them if the only reason Luke is with you is that you're too damaged to be on your own. You tell them about the twins, about how you alienated Mateo in favor of Emmy, you tell them about how happy they make you. You tell them how often you think that they would all be better off if you went away.

And when you finish speaking it's Savannah who tells you what you need to hear, Derek staring down at his coffee in what you can only assume is silent contemplation.

"You, Penelope Garcia, have always looked out for everyone else's happiness. It's time you go home to your own, screw Lucia and what she thinks. You love Luke, we can all see that. You are good enough for him, and if anybody deserves better it's those children of yours. They deserve a grandmother who loves both of their parents equally, especially if those parents are doing everything they can to make sure that they are loved and save."

You finally drive yourself home after another cup of coffee where you catch up on the good things that have been happening in life after you have dinner where Hank tells you that he misses you and he loves the cards you send every year for his birthday. You let yourself into the house quietly, glancing at the note Luke hastily scribbled on the chalkboard about dinner being left in the fridge for you, and up the stairs checking on your children who were both sound asleep. You undress and climb into bed beside Luke, who rolls over in his sleep to curl his arm around your waist and pull you closer to him, placing a kiss on the back of your head before nuzzling his face into your hair. You lie awake that nights, Lucia's words echoing inside of your empty brain, scattered thoughts that litter the blank pages of your mind.

_He deserves more._


	20. Chapter 20

When you exit Rebecca's office which is still situated on the same block, of the same street, in the same town and is still decorated in the same colors, Luke is waiting for you at the curb. The SUV is left idling and he's leaning up against the back passenger door. The windows are rolled all the way down and you can see your children are watching a movie in the backseat. Mateo is the first to recognize you, calling out for you and squirming in his seat as you approach the vehicle. Luke reaches out to wrap his arms around your waist and he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You take a deep breath, letting the feeling of him consume you for a moment, and when you pull back you rest your forehead against his, keeping your eyes closed.

"I figured we could take the kids out for their birthday," he mutters, sliding his fingers to the base of your neck, rubbing his thumb across your skin, and effectively sending a shiver down your spine. You find yourself nodding, not truly believing that you and he were the parents to a set of two-year-old twins. When you open your eyes to check on them, they are both so engrossed in the movie that neither turn to look at you, and so you climb into the front seat of the car, asking Luke to roll up their windows as he prepares to pull away from the curb.

When you're situated at the restaurant and the kids are shoveling macaroni and cheese into their mouths with supervision from yourself and Luke, each taking a twin in order to make sure neither choked, the conversation turns to your wedding, and the preparations. You find yourself speechless for a moment, not entirely sure as to if you want to bring up the altercation with his mother. If you thought he didn't notice the change in your demeanor, you were sorely wrong because he reaches out for you, taking the fork out of your hand and places it onto your plate.

"What's the matter?" he asks, and instead of answering him you turn your attention to Mateo, reaching out to wipe at his face. You shrug your shoulders, trying to brush off the conversation, but you've known from the beginning of your relationship with Luke that he was persistent, and so he doesn't stop questioning you until you finally give in.

"I found a dress the other day," you begin, looking over at him. His eyes are wide, and in that moment you're wondering what it is that he could be thinking. He blinks slowly, sheltering his brown eyes for a moment before you can see them again, your world shifting back into focus the second he does. "But Lucia told me that it wasn't right for a Catholic wedding. She said something about there not being sleeves, and there not being enough coverage." You don't look at him for a while, choosing to help your son place a bite of a hot dog into his mouth and making sure the food was properly chewed and swallowed before you look at your fiance.

"So we don't get married in a church," he says, picking up his glass and sucking gently on the end of the straw with a shrug of his shoulders. When he puts the glass down he glances over at Emmy, taking a napkin to her mouth before he turns back to you with a wide smile. "How about the backyard?" he asks, "It's big enough for the ceremony and reception, and you can wear jeans if you want." His fingers dance across the table to cover yours, and you find yourself relaxing in that moment. "As long as you make your way down the aisle to me, we can get married wherever, and you can wear whatever you want." He says, pulling you forward and brushing a kiss across your fingertips.

* * *

The office you're currently sitting in is a stark contrast to the one that you normally frequent. Where Rebecca had bright whites and silvers, a couch with throw pillows, and wide windows that allowed the daylight to filter in unashamedly at any time of the day, this one was the polar opposite. The walls were painted a deep shade of blue, accentuated by dark cherry wood bookcases, a large cherry wood desk sat in the center of a dark gray rug, with two navy blue leather chairs situated before the desk, one of which you were currently occupying, your right leg bouncing over your left with no rhythm. Luke was currently out on a case, leaving you alone with two children, anxiety that can't be tamed, and a future mother in law that is glaring daggers at you every time she felt like it. Her face contorting into the picture of rage whenever the wedding was brought up especially after Luke informed her that you would be tying the proverbial knot in the backyard, his arms spread wide as he described the arch he was designing. Excitement laced in his honey eyes as he talked to his mother, oblivious to the fact that she had gone still, her eyes trailing to where you were sitting with your children.

"Ms. Garcia, the trial is a month away, and I want to make sure we are as prepared now as we were two years ago." You turn your attention back to your lawyer, blinking to bring him back into focus as you smooth your skirt around your thighs. You nod while you adjust yourself in the chair, the back of your thighs sticking to the leather in the unusually warm office. With an expensive looking pen in his hands, he is prepared to take notes on lined yellow paper that's nestled into a dark portfolio. You focus on the yellow paper as he begins his questioning, the vibrant color the only thing tethering you to this moment as you have to relive the day that almost killed everything you ever knew about yourself, the day that almost killed you.

"What were you doing on March 1, 2020?" he asks, scribbling the question on the pad. You keep your eyes focused on the yellow paper, the blue lines running in evenly spaced horizontal lines, checking every so often to make sure that you can still see the colors.

"I had a prenatal appointment, I had found out that my daughter was four pounds and fifteen inches long," you say, turning your attention to the window which is covered by a dark wooded shade and you find yourself wishing that you were in the bright space of Rebecca's office.

"And then what did you do?" You close your eyes as flashes of that day play throughout your mind.

"I got into Luke's car, it was the only one that I could drive because of the size of my stomach, and I drove back to our old house." You're thankful in this moment that the tears haven't started yet, and you wonder how long you can keep them at bay after three years when each moment of this day is still burned so vividly into your mind. As he continues his questioning you focus on different points in the room, watching as the colors flicker every so often but never fade from your view, glad that after all this time they were as determined to stay as you were to keep them around.

When you finally stood to leave a few hours later, your thighs peeling painfully away from the chair you turn to your lawyer and ask him a simple question about adoption. He smiles at you, leaning down to scribble a name and number on a blank sheet of white paper, handing it to you with good wishes, a warm smile, and a verbal promise that he would do everything in his power to make sure that Ryan stayed in prison, where he belonged.

* * *

"Babe, sit down," you say, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his waist effectively stopping him from his incessant pacing. In turn, he wraps his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and placing a fevered kiss to your already sensitive skin. You let out a low moan before placing your hands on his chest, applying pressure and peeling yourself away from him. "We don't have time for that," you tell him as the doorbell rings and you both turn to look at it, exhaling a large breath before you tug on your short cardigan and pull the front door open with a large smile.

"Hello," you greet the woman on the other side of the door, Luke echoing your statement as you usher her into the home. "I'm Penelope, we spoke on the phone, and this is my fiance Luke." You walk with the woman into the sitting room, asking her if she would like anything to drink before you race off to the kitchen to grab bottles of water for the three of you.

"Hi Penelope, Luke, my name is Margaret Sharp, I work for the Department of Children and Family." She says, taking the bottle of water from you with a smile. "I'm here for the initial home visit for the potential adoption of," she looks at her paperwork "HarlowLeigh Jones from Seattle, Washington." she uncaps the bottle and takes a long swallow. "I think it's admirable what you are both doing. I checked into her past and saw that you, Luke were there the day her parents passed away. I also checked in to see how she is doing in her temporary foster home, and she has apparently been asking for you. She recently turned four in the beginning of March." The woman continues, handing you a picture of the small girl. The girl that your fiance couldn't stop talking about for the past few months, and you realize that you had never looked up a picture of her, the thought never even occurring to you that you might want to know what this small child looked like. Instead, you just opened up your heart to the possibility of loving another child. "This is a big step," the woman continues "are you sure this is something you want to do?" You don't hesitate, the yes slipping between your pink painted lips before she even finishes the sentence.

"Yes," you repeat, reaching out to grip Luke's right hand with your left. "When he brought the memory of her home, I knew we had to at least try."

"When are you getting married," Margaret asked, opening her folder and uncapping a pen, poised and ready to write down your answers.

"September 2nd," you say, turning to look at Luke. "But we've been together since 2017."

"Six years," she says, writing the dates onto her paperwork. "And how many children do you two currently have."

"Two." you say.

"Three," Luke says, looking over at you. "We lost a daughter a few years ago," he says his eyes flickering over to her picture.

"I'm sorry," Margaret replies, turning to look at you. "How are you?" she asks.

"We're both healing," you say, standing to look at Amalia's picture. "We see someone once a week, it's hard but I'm ready to open my home and my heart to a child in need." Turning back to the woman you smile. "Would you like to see the rest of the house?" you ask guiding her through the home with ease, showing her the bedroom that would belong to Harlow, the furniture Luke had purchased on a whim a few weeks ago assembled and arranged for the small child that you both hoped would one day grace your home. When your visit is completed, and Lucia is pulling into the driveway with the twins you turn to Margaret with a sad smile. "We would offer Harlow nothing but love, Margaret, and we come with a large family and support system." She smiles and places her hand on your arm.

"I'll be in touch, Penelope." You watch the woman climb behind the wheel of her car and drive off down the road with your arms clutched around your waist. You turn to your daughter who had managed to escape her grandmother in order to attach herself to your legs.

"Love you, mama." she says, laying her cheek against your bare calf.

"I love you, Emmy." you say, reaching down to run your hand over her soft hair.

"Me too, mama!" Mateo says, racing towards you both. You laugh, crouching down to wrap them both in your arms.

"You too, Mateo."

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has some references to what happened to Penelope in Chapter 9. If that upsets you then go down to the second cut.

"Miss Garcia, can you tell the court what you were doing before you were attacked?" You look up from your hands where your fingers have spent the better part of this proceeding fidgeting with each other, your nail beds currently picked to shreds. Locking eyes with your lawyer for a quick moment as you take a deep breath, your brown eyes sliding quickly to scan the court room, and you begin to panic as you look into faces that you don't know. But finally you find his face, his honey brown eyes are staring at you with determination and you give him a watery half smile and a nod of your head before you turn back to your lawyer to answer his questions.

"I had just gotten off the phone with my fiance." You answer, voice wavering in the beginning of the sentence.

"And then what happened?" he prompts, turning to walk back to the table where you had been sitting for the better part of the day.

"I let Roxy out through the back door when I heard the doorbell go off. I opened the door only to find Ryan standing on the other side." you continue, reverting back to the breathing technique that you've been using for the better half of the last decade.

"Miss Garcia, if you would, please tell the court what happened next in your own words." You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the pain of having to live through this for the third time in your life, and instead of closing your eyes like you did the first time several years ago, you turn to look at Ryan.

"Ryan's first words to me were _'were you ever going to tell me, Penelope?'_ immediately followed by _'how far along are you?'_ and when I didn't answer him right away he pulled my hands from around my stomach and twisted my arm in his hands, pushing me into the house and kicking the door closed behind him. At that point, he screamed _'answer me'_ in my face and I responded with ' _eight months.'_ It was then that he stated ' _mine'_ and then he kissed me." You pause to take a deep breath, not wanting to continue on with the next part of the story. You begin to twist the diamond ring that is still situated on your left finger, the metal twirling around and around as you pause to gather your thoughts and calm your erratic breathing. There's a humming inside of you, something screaming at you to move, yelling incessantly that you can't sit still any longer but you silence it and look back up at Luke and calm when he gives you another small nod.

"He yanked on my hair next, dragging me along with him through the front hallway and the living room, and he didn't let go until Roxy attacked him. She managed to bite his leg before he commanded me to place her into the front hall closet." you take another deep breath, closing your hands around the ring that was facing inward, pressing hard against the rock in order to leave an indent in your palm.

"Do you need a break, Miss Garcia?" your lawyer asks, noticing your hesitation and you shake your head as you reach out for the glass of water sitting on the ledge in front of you. The man nods once you're done taking a sip of water, "So you put Roxy in the front closet, why?"

"Luke and I love Roxy, and I didn't want her to get hurt," you answer with a shrug of your shoulders, speaking the words so casually, with a small smile at the thought of the dog waiting for you at home. "I'd give my life to protect her because she means so much to Luke, and got him through so much in his life."

"Dogs truly are man's best friend, Miss Garcia, what happened after you put her in the closet?" He asks, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking a seat once again. You look over at Luke in this moment and silently beg him to remove himself from the courtroom. The last time you had to recap this information, he wasn't there, and you had set it up that way purposely. Giving him a false date and begging Emily to take a case that would send him out of town. When he shakes his head at you, you deflate, knowing that he had seen the aftermath of what happened. Knowing that he already knows what happened in that room.

"Ryan forced me into the bedroom." you say, looking at your lawyer, refusing to elaborate.

"What happened next?" the man asks, getting visibly frustrated at your lack of details.

"He proceeded to hit me in various places, mainly my stomach, where I was carrying his child, and when I still wouldn't give him what he wanted, he raped me." you grind out through clenched teeth, your eyes scanning the courtroom, taking in the thick red drapes that hang from the windows, and the scratched table tops from years of pens flying over papers.

"And what did he want?" the man asks, standing from his chair and coming over to place a hand on the ledge that separates you from the rest of the room. The box caging you in as you sit on display, an animal in a zoo.

"Amalia," you answer. "My baby, he wanted my daughter."

* * *

What feels like hours later but in actuality is only several minutes the Judge announces that you are done for the day and would reconvene in the morning, but you remain seated in your box even after you had been excused. You watch as the people file out of the courtroom, several faces that you've never seen before, faces that you will never see again, but faces that now all know your story. Faces that will discuss your misfortune over dinner with their families tonight, passing around a basket of rolls and a bowl of peas amongst whispers of _that poor girl_.

When the room is clear you step down from the small podium on shaky legs and proceed to pick up your purse from the left side of the table. You exit the doors and begin to look for Luke who is standing off to the side of the hall with his mother and as you inch closer to the pair of them you can tell that Luke is angry from the way that he is standing.

"She's damaged, mi hijo, you heard her. You can do better." You watch as your fiance's hands clench into fists and you find that you want to walk over to them and interrupt, but you can't. You find that your eyes are glued to the back of Luke's neck, watching his reaction to her words because you know that your heart has stopped in this moment, your vision has darkened around the corners and you're sure that in this moment you could do something you will regret. Instead, you race past the pair of them, your heels the only sound in the corridor and you wish that you had your running shoes on instead.

The sun hits your face a few moments later, the heat slapping the air out of your lungs as you look around you wildly, trying to decide which direction you were going to run in when you feel his hands grip around your elbow. His touch anchoring you to the spot as you look up into his face, his beard that you helped trim this morning had flecks of a golden brown strewn about the strands, and there were slight freckles littered across his nose in this light.

"You're the mother of my children, Penelope, and I won't let anybody talk about you like that, not even my mother." He says, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. "Let's go home."

* * *

A few days later you've both just finished putting the twins down for the night, which you realize is getting harder the older they both get, when you're in the kitchen going through the mail. Your breath hitches in your throat when your eyes land on an envelope addressed to both you and Luke from the Virginia Department of Children and Families, and with a shout to Luke who was in the backyard with Roxy you've ripped open the letter. You don't wait for him to come back into the house before you read the words on the page, hungrily taking them in as a smile spreads across your face.

"What?" he asks, coming into the house and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before reaching out to grab the letter from your hands. He takes his time reading as he sips his water, and you pull out your cell phone and check your voicemails.

"She comes tomorrow," you tell him, pressing your phone to his ear. It takes him a moment to process the news, the smile spreading across his face slower than you would have imagined from the man who wanted this process to take place. "It's a trial run, for a year, but we passed the home visit and the classes." you continue to explain to the man who is still standing with the letter in his hand and a bottle of water pressed to his lips. You begin to walk away when you realize that he did this the time you told him about the twins as well, telling him to lock the back door behind him as you walk upstairs and climb into bed, stopping to check on the twins on the way. As you gently close Emmy's door you hear an excited shout from the lower level and you let out a smile as you walk over to Mateo's room and check on your sleeping son. When you step back into the hallway you are suddenly lifted into the air and pressed quickly up against the wall in between Mateo's room and your bedroom down the hall, and before you can protest Luke has pressed his lips to yours.

"I need you," he growls as he bites down on your neck as you nod, wrapping your legs around his waist he continues to carry you down the hall to your bedroom, laying you back onto the bed and reaching up to pull your underwear down your bare legs. "I love you, Flower," he says as he climbs up your body and parts your legs with his knees, entering you slowly.

"I love you, too." you whisper as you close your eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

The morning came too quickly but yet not quickly enough for you. The sunlight filtering in through the shades that both you and Luke constantly neglect to shutter when you lay your heads down to sleep. Shifting closer to your still slumbering fiance you try to close your eyes and catch a few more minutes of sleep before the twins wake for the day. You knew that the moment their eyes were open you'd have your hands full, getting not only them but yourself ready for the day. Looking at the clock you realize that both you and Luke only had a few hours before Harlow would be arriving with Margaret. Sighing you recognize defeat and pull yourself out of Luke's embrace letting your feet settle onto the soft carpet that lies under your bed.

The house is silent once you're showered and rested for the day and you take care to walk softly down the stairs to begin breakfast for your small family. You let Roxy out into the backyard before you realize that it had been a long time since you had stood before the stove preparing a meal, and you find yourself smiling as you flipped the many slices of french toast before turning to the bacon that your fiance loved more than anything. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't hear him come up behind you and so you shout, dropping the bacon on the floor when he wraps his arms around your waist.

"Not the bacon!" Mateo yelled, diving at your feet to try and salvage a piece as you realize that you're not being attacked, but that you are in fact safe in your kitchen. You smile at your son as Luke bends down to clean up the scattered meat.

"You are just like your father," you tell the mall boy as you lift him into your arms, settling him on your hip as you move to the fridge in order to see what you could replace the bacon with for your family.

"So?" The small boy challenges and you wonder exactly when your children had turned into little people, with personalities and attitudes. You feel like it was just yesterday that you and Luke were celebrating their second birthday, and yet here you were about to open your home to a third child as your children fast approached their third year on this earth. You laugh and place a kiss on Mateo's nose as you close the fridge, deciding that you needed to go shopping after Harlow arrived. Luke was currently strapping Emmy into her booster seat, making sure that she was secure with a plate of small bite-sized food in front of her before repeating the steps with Mateo.

You and Luke pause and look at each other when the doorbell rings, signifying that the next stage in your relationship is about to begin. You take a deep breath as you watch Luke walk to the front door and greet Margaret and Harlow as you stay with the twins, making sure that they continue to eat their breakfast. When Luke walks back into the kitchen he's clutching a small hand in his own walking a small girl around the island in order to introduce her to you.

"Harlow, I want you to meet someone very special to me," he begins kneeling down in front of the girl. "This is Penelope." You crouch down and look at the small girl, reaching out your hand to shake hers as you took in her appearance. She had beautiful brown hair, strands spiraled into tight curls and held back from her face with a headband. Her hazel eyes shining with amazement as she took in her surroundings. She looked neat and clean, in a yellow sundress and white sandals. She was clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest with her right hand.

"Hi Harlow," you say as you pull your hand back to your side after the small girl didn't let go of Luke. She looks up at Luke asking him a silent question to which he nods before she looks back at you.

"Hi, Pene...I can't say it," she says, stomping her right foot and looking up at you with tears in her eyes. You recognize the look of frustration and smile softly at her.

"It's okay, you can call me Penny if you'd like," you whisper to her, reaching out to push her headband back into place.

* * *

"So I need to talk to you about something," you say as you enter your bedroom and close the door a few months later. You had just finished making sure the twins were situated in bed while Luke read a story to Harlow. The small girl clearly favoring your fiance and refusing to bond with you. After speaking about the feelings that you had with that development with Rebecca, you remind yourself that Luke was there when her entire life changed. She told you to be patient, to give the small girl time, and eventually, everything would fall into place. Luke looks up at you from his side of the bed, peeling his reading glasses from his face and bookmarking his page in the novel he had been trying to read for the better half of this last decade.

"Okay," he says, pulling down the blankets on your side of the bed and patting the empty space next to him. You look at the space, realizing that it would be so easy to climb into the bed and distract yourself by getting lost in his body, but you sigh and shake your head, denying the invitation. "Are you okay, Pen?"

"I went to see Derek the other month after I tried on dresses with your mother," you spit the sentence out letting your shoulders sag as the revelation leaves your mouth. You turn to look at his face, watching the emotions play across his features, as you hold your breath. After a few moments, he turns back to his bedside table, pulling his book back to his lap and slipping his glasses back onto his face. You stare at him confused for a long while, wondering what was playing through his mind at this moment. "Are you angry with me?" He looks up from his book, the glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Six years, Penelope," he says, slamming the book shut and tossing it back onto the bedside table. "We have been in this relationship for six years. Do you not remember when we first started hanging out? Back before the children, before the engagement, before we both grew up...don't you remember how shattered that man left you? So no, I am not angry with you. I am angry at the fact that you keep doing things like this without me. I am going to be your husband in a little over two months, when are you going to start coming to me?" He finishes, getting out of the bed and walking to the closet. "I'm going for a run, call me if you need help with the kids." He stops before you, reaching out to gently pull you into his chest and places a kiss on your forehead. "I love you, Penelope Grace."

You turn and watch him leave. Your mouth opening to try and say something to stop him from going, but you find that you don't have anything to say in order to defend yourself. You listen to the sound of the side door closing and hear the rumble of his truck as it starts in the garage. Waiting until it's silent for a while before you make your way to the edge of the bed, devolving into tears.

* * *

"When are you going to tell him?" JJ asks as she slides a cup of tea across the desktop towards you smiling as you turn to look at her. You realize in the last six years that she's gotten thinner, her eyes looking even more tired as the years tick past, and you wonder if her and Will think constantly about walking away from the BAU. "The wedding is approaching soon," she says, reaching out to place her hand over your own. "How long have you known?"

"Three weeks." Reaching out to clutch the steaming mug between your cold hands, you bring it to your face to blow on the surface, watching the way your breath causes the surface of the liquid to ripple. "Since the night that I told him I was trying to make amends with Derek." You lift your mug to your lips and take a sip wincing as the liquid burns your tongue. "I'll tell him when he can look me in the eye again."

"Marriage is hard, Garcia, but you and Luke have been living the married life for years now," she says, reaching around you to wrap her arms around your shoulders, giving you a gentle squeeze. "Tell your husband that you're pregnant before he figures it out." She finishes, standing and turning to the door. You don't look up as she lets out a gasp. "I'm gonna go..." she says, brushing past Luke who is standing transfixed in the doorway.

"You're pregnant?" he asks, closing the door behind JJ and inching himself into your office. Your eyes are trained on your computer screens, refusing to look at him.

"Yep," you whisper. Your hand trails down to your stomach, resting your palm flat against the surface. "I was going to tell you that night I told you about Derek, but you took off, so I didn't say anything." You continue, still facing your monitors. Luke moves closer to you, kneeling down by your chair, and turning the seat to face him. Slowly he reaches out to cover your hand with his own, lacing your fingers together.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, placing a kiss on the top of your thigh, before resting his head in the same area. "I'm so sorry." You run your free hand through his hair, scratching at his skull.

"I'm sorry too," you say, continuing the motion of your hand against his skull. "I just can't bring another child into this world with all this hate in my heart." You tell him, "That's why I wanted to settle things with Derek. I didn't want to bring you into this mess again." He lifts his head to look at you.

"I asked you to marry me, I'm all in for all of it, Penelope. The good, the bad, and the ugly." He says, leaning forward to press a kiss to your still flat stomach. "We are going to be severely outnumbered." He says, placing his head back in your lap as you laugh, reaching up to wipe at your eyes. There's a beeping from your computer and you look up with a sigh.

"We have a case," you whisper as neither of you moves from the position that you were both in. You find that you want to remain here forever, quiet in your office with the man that you love, talking about your children. Both lost in a moment that could stretch into eternity and surrounded by color.


	23. Chapter 23

"Flower," he says as he walks into your office, softly closing the door behind him. He stays facing the door when you turn around to look at him and you decide to give him a few moments to gather himself. "I have to tell you something, but I don't want it to upset you, or send you into a panic especially since we have a case and I have to take off for a few days." He finally says, turning away from the door to look at you. You turn back to your computer and punch at the keys quickly before turning to shut off the monitors and move to settle yourself on the couch, patting the empty space beside you. He slides into the area and grasps your hand in his before tossing his arm around your shoulders.

"You can tell me anything, as long as you're going to help me through it, I'm sure I'll be fine," you whisper to him, letting yourself lean against him with a small smile.

"I just got off the phone with the Warden at Coffeewood," he says causing you to stiffen in his arms, automatically preparing yourself for the worst news possible. His right hand proceeds to run up and down your exposed arm, silently reassuring you that he was still with you. You take a deep breath and steady yourself for the rest of the story.

"There was a riot," he says and looks down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Ryan was injured during it, and he died on the way to the hospital." You close your eyes as your heart clenches in your chest, a sob escaping from your throat louder than you meant it to be, and you reach up to touch the tears that begin to cascade from your eyes. Luke let's you be for a few moments before he lifts you off of his chest and takes your face in his hands, pressing his lips to each of your cheeks. "Talk to me, Penelope." he begs.

"Are they sure it was him?" you finally ask and he looks at you and nods. "It's over?" You watch as Luke nods again.

"It's over."

You smile as you reach up to wipe at your eyes, taking a steadying breath before you reach out to brush your lips against his.

"It's really over."

* * *

"So how long have you been coming to see me on a regular basis?" Rebecca asks when you finally settle yourself into the seat across from her. You spent time admiring the pictures around her office, noting that over the years she had gotten married and started a family of her own.

"Five years, give or take," you reply with a smile.

"And in those five years we have worked on so much together, you've truly come a long way." You look up at the woman and realize that five years ago you were sitting on her couch with a pillow clutched to your stomach and your mind racing in every direction possible. Today, you realize, you're sitting here with a checklist of things that needed to get accomplished before your wedding this weekend.

"How are things going with Harlow?" she asks changing the subject, her pen poised over a pad of paper and you find yourself wondering how many pads she had scribbled your issues onto.

"Things are good," you tell her with a large smile. "She's adjusting to the kids, and they love having her around. Luke is over the moon about having her with us as well."

"And you, how do you feel about her?" She looks up at you with soft eyes and you look down at her rounded stomach with a softening expression.

"I'm adjusting, she hasn't bonded with me too much, but I think she will in time." You say, repeating her advice from a few sessions ago. "It's only been a few months, we have a lifetime. When are you due?" You gesture to her stomach and she laughs.

"I'm supposed to ask the questions, but I'm due next week." Rebecca says to you, reaching down to rub at her stomach. "It's a boy, we're naming him Jackson." You smile at her. "What about you and Luke, I know you're adding Harlow to the family, but are you going to have anymore kids after her?" You notice that she's put her pad down on the table in front of her and picked up a bottle of water taking a small sip.

"I'm actually pregnant." You announce, bringing your own hand to land on your stomach. "We don't seem to do anything half assed." She lets out a laugh and a nod. "Ryan's dead." You whisper, the words slipping from your lips causing the mood in the room to shift around you. She reaches out for her pen and you shake your head. "But I'm not torn about it. When Luke told me, I was relieved, and this weight lifted off of my shoulders."

"And I know you hate this question, but how did being relieved make you feel?" She asks leaning forward to look at you.

"Free," you reply "I feel free finally. Like I can actually be happy, you know, like I actually deserve to get married to this great guy and have this beautiful family." You glance up at the clock and notice that you've gone over your allotted time frame. Reaching down you grab your purse and pull it up as you stand. "I'll see myself out. I'll be on my honeymoon for two weeks, but three weeks sound good to you?" You ask her, and she stands and walks over to you, wrapping her arms around you in a hug.

"No, I think you can handle it from here." She says, "If you truly need to talk then you can schedule something, but I'm discharging you. Have a wonderful wedding, Penelope, you truly deserve it."

* * *

Luke is sitting on the patio with Lucia when you come home, and you smile as you see your children racing around the backyard, each trying to steer clear of the piles of chairs that were delivered for the wedding. Luke is sipping on a beer when you approach him and place a kiss on the top of his head and smile in greeting to your future mother in law.

"Ma, we have something we need to tell you," he says as you settle into the seat next to him. His hand reaches out to clasp around yours. Lucia turns her attention to the pair of you, repositioning herself in the chair in order to look at you directly. "We're pregnant." He finishes with a wide smile as, pulling you into his arms and placing a sloppy kiss to your right cheek. Lucia's eyes flash from yours to his and scoffs.

"Is this the life you want?" She asks him and you feel your heart drop into your stomach as you turn your attention to your children, watching them climb in and out of the sand pit Luke created just a few months ago. You feel him release you from his embrace and stand, the sound of the chair scraping harshly against the wood on the patio sending a shiver down your spine.

"Si, this is my life, Penelope is who I choose, those are my children all _five_ of them and if you can't accept that then you're going to miss out on a lot." He says, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek before walking down the steps and scooping Mateo into his arms. You watch as your two boys chase your two girls around the yard, the excited shouts from the children causing a smile to spread across your face. Letting your hand fall to your stomach you begin to speak, your eyes never leaving your children.

"I understand that I wasn't your first choice for your youngest son. I don't speak Spanish, I'm not Catholic, I broke his heart by dating Ryan and when I did come back I was knocked up. I get that I hurt him," you say as you reach out to take a sip of water, your eyes turning to her for a second before bouncing back to your children. "I get that when I hurt him I also hurt you because he's your baby, he's your son. I get it as I am also a mother and if anyone ever hurt Mateo, or any of my children..." you trail off and let out a sigh.

You breath in.

Hold.

One.

Two.

Three.

Out through the mouth.

"I love Luke with my whole heart, Lucia, there is nothing that I wouldn't do for him and my family. And as much as I want you to like me, I'm not going to go out of my way to make you, that will only cause me more pain with each of your rejections. But I will tell you what I will do; I won't allow him to keep you from our family. I won't do to you what you've been doing to me." Turning your attention back to your family you watch as Luke crawls into the sand box with the children, helping them to build a mote around the plastic sand castle. You smile when you see Emmy reach out to wrap her arms around Harlow's neck and place a kiss to her cheek.

"Penelope, I'm sorry." Lucia says, you turn to her with a sad smile.

"You're not, but I appreciate the effort." you reach out to pat at her hand. "But I'm marrying your son in two days and there's not a damn thing you can do about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is tying up some loose ends. There are only two more chapters after this one, and I think it's time. Don't you?


	24. Chapter 24

**8:00 AM**

_Good Morning,_ reads the text message as you grip your phone in your hands in the empty bed. You, Penelope Garcia, you are getting married today and although the thought strikes you as weird, you find yourself smiling through the blurry haze of your sleep. Reaching out behind you to feel the cool sheets where his body is usually pressed into the mattress, you finally let a slow smile stretch across your face. Today is the day, you tell yourself as you sit up, letting the covers fall down to your bent waist, stretching your arms above your head in the cool morning air.

 _Good Morning,_ you type with your thumbs as you make your way to the bathroom, relishing in the fact that you have the house to yourself this morning. The children were with their grandmother and Luke was currently sleeping at his brother's house a few miles down the road. You realize that you don't like the sound silence makes without your family around to distract you and so you drag yourself into the shower and let the warm water drown out the sound of nothing.

When you emerge you can hear a persistent knocking at your door, wrapping yourself in a bathrobe and slipping your feet into a pair of discarded flip-flops that you realize are _his_ and not yours causes laughter to bubble up from your throat. JJ doesn't give you a full second to open the door before she's announcing her presence and barreling her way into your living room. Emily stands back for a moment, watching the two of you embrace until you open your arms for the dark haired woman to join in the hug.

"You're getting married today, PG," she whispers into your wet hair as you squeeze the both of them closer to you.

"I'm getting married," you reply to the women as you disentangle yourself from the embrace and flop back onto the couch, a toy poking you in the side. "Me, Penelope Garcia, I'm getting married."

"They did a nice job of setting up the chairs," JJ says as she walks over to the window, looking into the backyard. She turns back to you with a soft smile while reaching into her purse in order to pull out a light blue scrap of fabric and hands it to you. "It's part of Henry's baby blanket, I figured you could use it as your something blue." The woman says as she turns your hand palm up and places the piece of fabric in your hand, closing your fingers around the material. "There is also this," she says as she is reaching back into her purse and pulling out a small pink bow as she sits down on the edge of your coffee table. "I bought this for Amalia, so I figured it could be your something old."

You look up at the woman with tears in your eyes as you reach out to pull the bow closer to you. Gently you press the bow to your heart before nodding at the two women as Emily clears her throat.

"This is a bracelet I wore when I was in Paris after we faked my death, it reminded me of you guys fighting stateside," Emily says as she reaches out to wrap the delicate silver bracelet around your wrist, letting the small Statue of Liberty hang against your pulse point. "I wanted this to be your something borrowed. And this," she says as she looks at JJ who nods while pulling out a package from her purse and hands it to you. The black velvet smooth in your hands as you reach out to pull at the red ribbon.

"This is from Luke," JJ says as you open the box and take in the pair of earrings that lay against the cushion. "He said to tell you that Aquamarines are said to be a symbol of hope, which is something he never gave up through all of your years together. We also decided that these are to be your something new."

**9:00 AM**

"Someone is coming," you tell the women as you sit around outside on the back deck in the same spot where you had the conversation with Lucia just two short days ago. "Derek is coming, I mean." You amend your previous statement and they both turn to look at you as you begin to nibble on a piece of dry toast, not sure that your stomach can handle much more than that at this moment.

"I didn't know you and he were on speaking terms," JJ says while reaching out to steal a piece of bacon from Emily with a smirk and a shrug. You look at the way the sunlight shines off of her blonde hair as the cool September breeze kisses your skin.

"I went to visit Derek and Savannah when they were in town a while ago," you begin placing the toast back onto your plate and looking up at the women. "I don't think he and I can ever go back to how we were before, I was a different person then, but I hope one day we can get some semblance of that back." There's a silence that ring out between the three of you in the early morning as you look out over your backyard, taking in the chairs that form a half circle with a small aisle running down the middle. You stare at the arch that Luke had constructed months ago with his bare hands, constantly complaining about splinters that you weren't sure how he was getting. Only figuring out the surprise last night when you looked out the window before crawling into bed to see him and his brother carrying it into the backyard, as quietly as they could.

"When will he be here?" Emily asks as she lifts a forkful of eggs to her mouth. "Why are Will's eggs so damn good, JJ?"

"Any minute," you respond as you hear the doorbell ring in the distance and you let his voice wash over you as he shouts out your last name.

"I'll go get him," JJ replies as she gets out of her seat in order to grab the man. He's dressed casually when he appears in the doorway, reaching out to grab the last piece of bacon from Emily's plate to which the woman groans.

"Garcia," he begins as he looks at you and you realize that his voice doesn't do the same thing to you that it used to. His voice doesn't cause trembles to wrack your body, or desire to pool between your legs, or your heart to start beating erratically.

"Derek," you say as you stand to hug him, letting his arms wrap around your frame which is still wrapped in a bathrobe. "I'm glad you could make it, is Savannah coming?"

**10:00 AM**

You find yourself staring at your wedding dress as you sit with your legs folded underneath you on the edge of your bed. Your eyes take in the soft lines of the lace, the dip of the neckline, the dusty white material, the delicate flowers that adorn the fabric. You let your fingers reminisce of the feel of the soft tulle under your touch, the way the fabric felt when it slid over your body during your last fitting.

 _Three hours,_ you read as you pull your phone off of the charger and smiling as his name lingers on your screen. Three hours you repeat to yourself as you press the phone near his picture, letting the line ring until his voice washes over you. And all those feelings that weren't present with Derek, they come rushing back to you now, Penelope.

"Hi," you breathe out, letting your eyes slide shut as your left-hand reaches up to play with the delicate earrings he had purchased for you. "I got your gift."

" _You like them?"_ he asks through the phone, you imagine him sitting back on his brother's couch with his feet up. Relaxed as if he isn't getting married today.

"They're beautiful," you respond, unfolding your legs and leaning yourself back onto the bed, crushing the beautiful curls the hairdresser had fought to twist into your hair. Old Penelope would have wanted everything to be pristine and perfect, old Penelope would have rushed downstairs to tell the woman to do it again, but old Penelope didn't live here anymore.

" _My mother should be there with the kids soon,"_ he warns you, and you find that you don't mind that your morning of solitude will be slowly coming to an end as you listen for the thunderous footsteps produced by three tiny children who all weigh under thirty pounds each.

"I can't wait to see you," you tell him with a soft smile as you hear Mateo's voice ringing out for his aunt Emily.

"Meet me at the altar?" he asks and you let out a small chuckle.

"Don't you mean the arch?"

When you disconnect the call and look up Harlow is standing at your doorway and you beckon her over to you while sitting up on the bed. The look of determination on her face causes you to not reach out to help her onto the surface, instead, waiting patiently for her to climb up herself.

"I'm this many," she says holding out five fingers to you and you nod. "I want red lips," she says looking up at you with wide yet hopeful eyes.

"Red lips?" you ask her with a soft smile.

"Red lips, so I can be pretty like you," she replies as you reach out to gently pull her into your lap. You turn her attention to the mirror sitting across the room and look into the reflection.

"You, Harlow Leigh, are beautiful inside and out. You don't need red lips in order to be pretty. You just continue being yourself and that will always be enough, okay, just stay true to yourself." You tell the small child as you place a kiss on the top of her head. "But if you want red lips today, and only today, I think we can make an exception. Just don't tell Luke."

**11:00 AM**

You watch as the caterers arrive, dragging from their vans the food for the day as you sit at your bedroom window. The kids were all dressed courtesy of Alma and JJ and were currently situated in front of the television in the living room, where you hoped they would stay for the next two hours until the ceremony began. You find yourself wishing your mother was here in this moment, wanting to share this day with her, but knowing that you couldn't. Letting your fingers trail over the small curve of your stomach as you think back on the days you and her would spend discussing this day. You turn when you hear a knock at your door, and give the person a small smile when the remain standing at the threshold.

"May I come in?" The woman asks and you nod in response.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me today, Lucia," you tell the woman as she perches herself on the edge of your bed.

"I wanted to give you something, Alma gave it to me on my wedding day, and Grandma Rosa gave it to her on her wedding day," she says as she holds up a box and waves it gently. You notice that her fingers are shaking as she pulls the cover off of the box and pulls out a long veil, letting the excess fabric flutter to the floor.

"Every woman who marries into the Alvez family," she begins pausing to take a deep breath, "we all wore this veil when we got married in the family church, including Samantha and Heather…" she trails off again and you remain silent at the window, giving her time to gather her thoughts. "I know I haven't made it easy on you these last years, but you weren't the person I expect for my son. When he announced he was moving back to the East Coast I was excited, and I hoped that I could see him more, but then he met you," she says, looking up at you for the first time.

"You were all he talked about and I never thought that we would be here, even that day that he brought you home to meet everyone when he was calling you his friend. I could see it then that he loved you more than you could ever love him. I could see that he had given you his heart and with that, the power to completely shatter him.

"And you did, you know, you shattered him when you began dating that monster. I've never forgiven you for that, but I realize now that I know nothing of your past. I only know that you were broken when my son found you and with him, you've grown into someone that I can say I am proud is the mother of my grandchildren.

"I want you to wear this veil today because you're becoming an official part of this family, but I should have been treating you like a member since the day I met you." Lucia stands from the bed and pulls the veil off of the floor, dragging the fabric along the comforter and resting it on the mattress.

"Take care of my son, Penelope."

**12:** **00** **PM**

"Mama, you look so pretty," Emmy says once she enters the room, her tiny hands pressing against the back of your calves as she peers around your legs into the mirror. You notice Harlow standing behind her, the pale yellow dress a perfect color against her skin and you beckon them both over to you with a smile. You crouch down in your dress, letting the fabric puddle around your legs as you perch them both on the window sill.

"I'm going to tell you a secret," you tell the girls, reaching out to grasp each of their faces. Noticing the light red lipstick is smeared on Harlow's face you wipe at the mess before continuing.

"What secret?" Emmy says as she looks at you with wide eyes, leaning forward with her hands resting on her knees. Harlow looks over at her and repeats the motions.

"I wish my dress looked like yours!" you tell the girls with a wide grin. Harlow looks over at Emmy in confusion before turning back to you.

"That's not a very good secret," she replies and you tilt your head back in laughter.

"No, I suppose it isn't," you tell them as you look over at the clock and read the time. "But it's time to go now," you tell them as you help them off of the window sill and watch them race out into the hallway hand in hand. A sense of pride washes over you in that moment, and if you let yourself you could see another girl chasing off after them.

"Ready, Garcia?" you look up at the voice and nod as you stand up straight and smooth the front of your dress down. Your eyes land on the veil that is still laying on the bed before walking over to it and lifting it into the air.

"Help me with this would you?"

**1:** **00** **PM**

"Last chance to make a run for it," Derek says when you pause at the top of the stairs, letting your eyes wander to Luke who is standing near the arch in the backyard, both of his brothers waiting patiently at his side. You can see Emmy and Harlow tossing flowers at the guests as they make their way down the makeshift aisle, each girl stopping every few seconds in order to reach into the basket they kept leaving behind them.

"I'm done running," you tell the man as you turn to him with a smile. It doesn't take you long to reach the aisle, watching as Emily and JJ walk down in turn before Alma sets Mateo down the aisle, the small boy racing straight for his father without a care in the world. Your smile widens when the boy looks up at Luke while patting his pockets and holds up a finger before turning and racing back into the house to a round of laughter.

"Hi Mama!" he says as he grabs the box from the coffee table and turns back around to walk back down the aisle. Derek reaches out to clasp your arm around his and smiles at you.

"I'm so proud of you, Baby Girl," he says and you let the nickname wash over you, realizing that it doesn't hurt to hear him say it anymore. You begin to drag him towards the door and towards your fiance. The walk takes forever, you feel, and no matter how many steps you take you still feel as if Luke is miles away.

You realize that he hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you stepped onto the back deck, the veil hanging over your body as you look at him and smile. There is a blush creeping into your cheeks but you ignore it, you ignore the heat of the September sun on your skin, you ignore the feeling of the eyes on your body as you walk down the aisle. You ignore the whispers of your guests, the whistle that came from Spencer as you passed him, the giggles of your children as they sit by Lucia. You ignore Rossi who is standing near Luke, ready and waiting to officiate your wedding, you ignore everything but him.

When you finally slip your hand into his you feel the day shift into focus. Your senses rushing back to you with one swipe of his thumb over your hand, are you really getting a happily ever after, Penelope?

"Hi," he whispers and you reach up to press your lips against his smiling sheepishly when Rossi announces that you're not supposed to kiss until after the wedding. You glare at him, causing another round of laughter to ripple through the crowd.

"Someone is anxious," he says and you roll your eyes before looking back to Luke. "I have had the pleasure of knowing Penelope for almost twenty years, and I've never seen her happier..." he begins as you tune out, letting your eyes search the face of your fiance and you smile wider as you realize that this is the last time you are ever going to call him that. "They have chosen to recite their own vows, so Luke if you want to begin..."

"Penelope Grace Garcia, never in a million years did I ever think I would find you." he begins and you close your eyes to shield yourself from the tears that are threatening to fall already. "And even when I had found you, I thought to myself that there was no way you would give me the time of day, but you did. It wasn't the first time that I saw you or the second...we had worked together for months before you actually let me see the person you truly are. I found you curled up against your car after a jog and I knew in that moment as you looked up at me, that I needed to know you. I watched as you and Roxy ran in a circle, the sunlight shining off of your blonde hair, and the biggest smile I had ever seen you wear...I knew that I had to keep you in my life no matter what. You, Penelope, have made me the happiest man in the world, blessing me with a loving home and four beautiful children and one more on the way. You give everything to those around you, pouring your love into each and every relationship, pouring your soul into each and every interaction.

"I want you to know that I will always be here for you, holding you up when you're too weak to walk. I will show you the way when it's too dark for you to see. I will guide you when you've lost yourself on bad days. I will help you make the hard decisions. I will love you until the end of my days, and as long as I am breathing, I will always do my best to make you see that you are loved, you are precious, you are courageous, and you are strong." You open your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as he reaches up to wipe them away and smiles at you.

"Penelope," Rossi nudges you and you nod quickly holding your mouth open as you look back at Luke, not sure how to respond, but you try anyway.

"Luke, uh, I'm sorry I'm a mess ninety percent of the time and I should have gone first because you've gone and made me cry. But um, I wasn't prepared for you, in the slightest. I was happy in my tiny apartment, alone with a carton of ice cream, but you seemed to have other plans, you know. You came into my life in a damn elevator and I can't deny that I was immediately attracted to you because of course, I was, I mean look at you. But you uh, you were there. You were constant and you made me see that I was actually worth something. Through your eyes, I can finally love myself, and that's a gift I don't think I can ever repay.

"I was a struggle to pin down, I think we all know that, but you persisted, telling me that I was the one for you but of course, I didn't listen, I never do. But you never gave up on me, not once, and I love you for that so much. You take care of me, and our children and you make us feel safe and loved in a way that nobody else ever has. You're my hero, Luke, and I know that you would do anything to keep us happy.

"I love our story, Luke, and sure it's messy and chaotic and at one point it was a damn tragedy, but look where we are. Look at where it got us. I'm not going to promise you breakfast in bed, and good times always because that's not us. I will promise that I will be here when the times get tough. I will come to you first because you deserve that much. The kids and I will bake you a chocolate cake, and probably burn it, for your birthday every year. I will continue to work on loving myself because it only makes me love you more, and I will always love you, until my very last breath, you will be the one that I choose."

You look to Rossi with a nod and a watery smile as you finish your speech. He holds his hands out for the rings which Mateo happily gives him before sighing dramatically and walking back to his great-grandmother.

"Now, I've been married three times in my life, so I have this part memorized," Rossi says as he holds up the rings, handing each of you the white gold bands. "Now you have to slide the ring onto her finger when you say I do, okay, stop being nervous."

"Luke, do you take Penelope to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Rossi asks, turning to look at him.

"I do," Luke replies with a wide grin as he slides the ring onto your finger, the sun shining off of the small diamonds embedded into the band.

"And do you, Penelope, take Luke..."

"Yes, I mean I do," you say nodding to another chorus of laughter from the crowd.

"Well, by the power vested in me by some website, I now pronounce you husband and wife..." he says as you launch yourself into Luke's arms, crashing your lips against his with a smile so wide you're sure it's going to break your cheeks. "And they're already kissing so continue on." Your eyes remain closed under as he pulls back and leans his forehead against yours.

"Hello, wife," he says before leaning in to kiss you again and leading you back up the aisle.


	25. Chapter 25

"Congratulations," Margaret says as she reaches out to shake hands with both you and Luke, her eyes lingering on your well-rounded stomach. You look up at the woman and nod, smiling your thanks as another contraction tears through your body. Refusing to vocalize the pain at this moment, knowing that the paperwork you and Luke were currently filling out needed to get done before you rushed him off to the hospital.

"Thank you, Margaret, for everything," Luke replies as he finishes scribbling his name on the last piece of paper in the small Judge's quarters. You lean down to start the process of signing the adoption papers littered across the tabletop, letting a strained breath escape through your clenched teeth. Luke looks over at you with a concerned glance as he takes in your strained appearance.

"Pen," he says, his arm reaching around to rub your back. Humming a response you continue to the next set of papers, not bothering to read them as you already knew what they stated. "Are you okay?"

Looking up at your husband you nod and give him a strained smile as a little whimper escapes your lips, as another contraction ripples through you. "I'm fine," you respond as you turn your attention back to the remaining pieces of papers, reaching out to bring the next one over to you.

"You don't look fine," he responds, reaching out to hand the completed pile of paperwork to Margaret who tucks it into her briefcase.

"Of course I don't look fine," you reply flippantly to him as your hand continues flying across the papers. "I'm in labor."

"You're in..." he trails off looking between you and Margaret, "labor? Right now, right here?" You nod.

"Yes," you reply as you continue onto the last piece of paperwork.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asks as he reaches over to try and take the pen from your hand. You turn to him and let out a hiss to which he chuckles, Harlow had taken to pretending she was a cat recently and it seems that you had picked up on her tendencies.

"She will be our daughter before I leave this room," you say as you breathe through another contraction, pausing before you sign your name onto the last document. You stand, handing the rest of the paperwork to Margaret with a smile. "I'm going to go have another baby now, and possibly get my tubes tied because this one is fertile." You tell her while glaring at Luke over your shoulder. The man has the decency to look ashamed at himself as he ushers you out of the building and to the car, dialing his mother as he helped you into the front seat in order to update her.

"Tell the kids we love them," you can hear him say as he slides behind the wheel of the vehicle, turning the keys in the ignition he checks over his shoulder and pulls away from the curb.

"You going to be calm this time?" You ask him once he gets off the phone, his eyes darting to check his mirrors every few seconds.

"Calm? Me, of course, I'm always calm." He replies while reaching out to grip your hand in his.

"You were racing around last time, and you've been on edge with the finalizing of the adoption," you remind him with a gentle smile.

"We're outnumbered, Flower," he whispers to you, a look of horror in his eyes. You let out a laugh, quickly clamping your mouth shut as another contraction hits you.

* * *

 

Your home had never looked better, you decide as you settle yourself into the soft cushions of the couch a week later with Mateo tucked into your side. Smiling you look around the room taking in the cluttered appearance of toys scattered about the floor, coloring books littering the coffee table, Roxy sleeping in her bed, and numerous bottles coating a flat surface. The first time around you needed everything to be pristine for the twins, everything had a place and it should return to that place as soon as possible.

Now, as you sit on the couch with your son, listening as he tries to read to you from a book you notice the peacefulness of the situation. Glancing up at Luke you smile as he is walking around the living room trying to quiet down your newborn son, you think to yourself that your husband has never looked more handsome than when he was holding one of your children in his arms. You continue to watch him as your daughters lay on the floor, coloring a large sheet of paper with their brother's name on it. The Welcome Home sign two days too late but wanted all the same. Luke reaches out for the only thing that seems to get all of the kids to calm down at the same rate and presses the trigger while spinning your son in a small circle.

"Mama," Harlow says pointing at Luke, "pretty bubbles in the air!" You smile at her as you run your fingers through Mateo's hair, thinking that he was in desperate need of a haircut.

"Yes baby, they are pretty aren't they?"

"Can you help us with the glitter?" she continues to ask, reaching out to hand you the container and you silently laugh, knowing that glitter wasn't Luke's favorite thing in the world.

"You can't use glitter for him, he's a boy Harlow!" Mateo exclaims as he slides off of the couch and onto the floor. "We have to use green and blue!"

"No, we do not Mateo, boys can like any color they want and if he wants to like glitter than he can!" Emmy says as she leans back onto her knees with her hands on her hips. "My favorite color is green, like Daddy!"

"I really like red," Harlow says as she continues drawing in a blue heart on the corner of the paper.

"Well, I like orange!" Mateo says as he reaches out to grasp the crayon and holding it up to you.

"What do you think Alex's favorite color is going to be?" Mateo asks as he looks over at his younger brother who was now being lulled to sleep with the gentle sway of Luke's motions. The man looks up at you with a smile.

"I think he will let us know as soon as he can, Mateo," Luke says as he looks back down at his youngest son, a sense of pride rushing through him.

"What's your favorite color, Mama?" Emmy asks and you smile at her.

"All of them, Emmy, I don't have a favorite because they are all so pretty." _Even gray, you tell yourself, even gray._

* * *

 

**_Twenty Years Later_ **

"They're babies, Luke," you say as you buckle yourself into the car. "I don't understand why they wanted to have a child right away." Your husband chuckles as he slides into the car, double checking that your belt was secure before leaning over to press his lips against yours. Even in your late fifties, the man couldn't keep his hands to himself, and you find yourself wondering how many children you would have had, had you not gotten yourself fixed after Alex's birth. Turning to your husband you take in his appearance, his thick hair peppered with gray giving him an even more distinguished look than he had before.

There was a point in your last twenty years together when he had shaved his beard and you made him promise to never do it again. Shuddering you remember what a shock it was to you to see his face bare for the few weeks it took for him to start to grow it back.

"Do you ever regret it?" you ask him as he pulls out of the driveway and heads towards the hospital. "Not having more children?" He laughs and shakes his head as he merges onto the highway.

"Emmy was a nightmare as a teenager, I literally had to tear down the trellis so that she would stop sneaking out," he reminds you, "And Alex still lives at home and I'm not sure when he's going to move out, and that boyfriend of his is no good and I wish he would see that, but we're going to continue to support him," he continues as you begin laughing not needing for him to continue but he does. "Harlow, whoever would have thought that the kid would run off with Hank of all people, I didn't even know they kept in contact!" He says as he slows the car down at the next exit.

"And Mateo?" you ask him with a smile. Luke remains silent for a while, letting the words linger.

"Well Mateo knew he wanted to be with Amanda the very second she entered his third-grade class, don't you remember him coming home to talk about her?" you nod your head as you reach up to wipe a tear from your cheek.

"He did everything in his power to get her to give him the time of day, and she never did," you reply with a soft smile as you think back.

"Until his fourteenth birthday party, remember he wanted to have it in the summer so he could see her in a bathing suit, and Marcus pushed her into the pool," Luke says as he pulls into the parking spot and reaches over to unbuckle you, brushing a kiss to your lips before you both exit the car. He reaches out to grip your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze as you walk into the hospital to meet your first grandchild.

"Mateo jumped in fully clothed to save her, never mind that she was a lifeguard and on the swim team." you continue, "they have been inseparable ever since." you finish the story as you both wait for the elevators to open, and you remember that your entire relationship started near one of these, the first time you saw him was when you were barreling out of one so many years ago.

"So yes, they want to start a family, and we're getting grandchildren when we still act like children most times..." Luke trails off as he reads the room number from the text message Mateo had sent earlier that day. Pausing in front of the door you smooth down the front of your dress as Luke enters the room before you. You watch as father and son clutch at each other in a tight hug, smiling as Luke pulls back to tell him how proud of Mateo he is before he places a kiss on the top of Amanda's head. You listen as Luke tells the woman how much he loves her and that she is the best fourth daughter a guy could ever ask for.

Mateo reaches into a bassinet and the thought of your grandchild causes you to rush into the room, pausing to give Amanda a fierce hug, thanking and congratulating her.

"Mama, there's someone we'd really like for you to meet," Mateo begins as he walks over to you supporting the head of the small bundle. "This is our daughter," he continues as he places her in your arms and kisses you on the cheek.

"She's beautiful," you breathe out as you look down at the small child. "What's her name?" You ask, looking up at your son who towered over you and had since he went through his first growth spurt years ago.

"Her name is Amalia."

There's something to be said about love. Something calming. Something beautiful. Something wonderful. You find yourself reminiscing over every move you made, every move he mad. You find yourself remembering everything. Before her, you never wanted children. Before her, marriage wasn't something you wanted. Before her, you didn't think you deserved to be happy. But before her…everything was dull.

Dull like the yellow paint on your kitchen walls. Dull like the blue of the sheets that adorn your bed. Dull like the shade of green that your dead grass was. Dull like the beige of the walls in this hospital room. Dull like the beating of your heart against your chest.

Though the color has been back in your world for a long time now, something over twenty-two years, you see them brighter now. With each rise and fall of her chest, the colors become more vibrant around you.

"Welcome back, Amalia," you whisper as you place a gentle kiss on her forehead. "It's so great to finally meet you."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for reading this story, it was something so near and dear to my heart and I couldn't thank you all enough for sticking with me. I hope this is the happiest of endings any of us could have hoped for, and if you follow me on tumblr at itsdawnashlie you will be able to continue to watch this family through little drabbles from time to time. 
> 
> Thank you all so much, I love each and every one of you!


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